Tyranny of the Sun
by My Yellow Lady
Summary: Light and darkness are two sides of the same coin; one cannot exist without the other. A novelisation of the Dawnguard storyline from Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. M rating is for coarse language, adult themes and fantasy violence. Cover art by Filat on DeviantArt, Photoshop edit work done by me. On hiatus while I work on other projects, but will be finished.
1. Chapter 1: Chance Meetings

**Chapter 1: Chance Meetings**

**A/N: Hi there! This story is my first work on the site, and this is a lengthy first chapter. The novelisation assumes background knowledge of the contents of the Dawnguard DLC and some basic Elder Scrolls lore. The Dovahkiin in this story is an Elf, though which kind, you'll have to work out for yourself. There will be eventual romance in this story, though not for some time yet. In the meanwhile, enjoy!**

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Of all the places the fort could be built, it had to be in the Rift. Warm, autumnal, wealthy, and overall completely intolerable. Vafiél would've preferred even Solitude, full of people as it were. At least people were easy to avoid.

But he'd heard it so often, advice unwelcomed—"Heard they're reforming the Dawnguard, vampire hunters or something, in the old fort near Riften!"—and such did its frequency irk him that he simply had to know what all the fuss was about. So, as sunset made the russet and amber leaves overheard bleed in ruddy light, he journeyed south in search of the supposed stronghold.

A slightly worn path diverted up away from the road leading to the border. Vafiél took it and came up to the entrance of a cave. The sign outside roughly read 'Dayspring Canyon.' It looked more like a pass into the mountain than anything else.

He wasn't sure how long he was in the mountain pass—it could have been minutes or hours—but finally, he emerged into a spacious valley. Chill air rustled his cloak and Vafiél closed his eyes blissfully; it was a welcome respite from the warmth. He passed by rich foliage and headed down a worn path. A roar filled his ears. Curious, Vafiél rounded the edge of the rocky outcropping to his right and stopped altogether.

He stood in front of a grand lake into which small waterfalls spilled from the depths of frost-encrusted mountains. Sunlight sparkled on the ice and made the lake shimmer like crushed diamonds. Vafiél took a deep breath, admiring the scenery, until a young man's voice disturbed his reverie.

"Oh, hey there! You here to join the Dawnguard, too?" asked a blond Nord.

Vafiél glanced down at him. Usually the hood deterred others from talking to him. Not this one, apparently.

"Truth is, I'm a little nervous. I've never done anything like this before. Oh, my name is Agmaer," the boy went on. Apprehension started to creep into his voice near the end, as if he'd begun to regret his choice to strike conversation.

Pitying him, Vafiél said, "You look rather unarmed to be fighting vampires."

Agmaer laughed sheepishly and rubbed his face. "I know," he admitted. "Do you mind if I, uh, walk up with you?"

"Fine," Vafiél relented.

They continued up the path, veering left and deeper into the valley. "Hey, uh, don't tell Isran I was afraid to meet him by myself. Not the best first impression for a new vampire hunter, I guess," Agmaer added, bashfully.

"Isran? The commander of the fort, I assume?"

The boy nodded.

Vafiél hummed shortly. "May I give you some advice, Agmaer?"

"Of course."

"Train hard, and always carry a cure disease potion with you on assignments," Vafiél said quietly. "You do _not _want to suffer with Sanguinare Vampiris."

Agmaer gave him a serious look. "I trust your judgement. You sound experienced."

Vafiél laughed softly through his nose. "And don't trust anyone."

The Nord scratched the back of his head, chuckling nervously, and looked away. "You've probably killed lots of vampires, huh? I'm sure Isran will sign you right up. Not sure he'll take me. I hope so."

"We'll see soon enough," Vafiél told him. "Believe in yourself."

They passed between two reaches of rock from the surrounding mountains and emerged into what seemed to be the main portion of the canyon. Above them loomed the fort, an imposing beast of grey stone and blind arches and great rounded towers seated atop a hill.

"That must be it. Fort Dawnguard... Wow. Bigger than I expected," Agmaer remarked, craning his neck in awe to observe the castle.

"With all the talk from the Hold guards, I expected more people," Vafiél murmured, looking around as they continued to ascend.

"Oh, you're right. Where is everybody? This place looks almost deserted."

Vafiél paused. "I hear something. Up ahead." He continued forward until they came to a small campfire and an Orsimer with an odd weapon, like a small metal bow laid on its side atop a piece of wood. Curious of the strange contraption, Vafiél edged forward to observe, keeping at the man's side so as not to interrupt his shot.

"Well, well. New recruits, eh? Name's Durak," said the man, in a gruff voice. "Isran's in the fort. He'll get you sorted out."

"What is that you're shooting with?" Vafiél asked.

"Never seen a crossbow before, eh? Not surprised. Kind of a Dawnguard specialty. Nothing better for putting down vampires," Durak replied, grinning. "Here, take this one and give it a try. You'll want to know how to use it if you really plan to join the Dawnguard."

Agmaer stayed back to watch while Vafiél took the crossbow—the name made sense, in retrospect—and mimicked Durak's earlier position.

"Right, now… Load the bolt in, pull back the lever… Hm, not a bad draw, for a new recruit. Stronger than you look. Aim… Fire with the trigger."

The bolt flew and the crossbow recoiled more than Vafiél expected, but his shot was true. "Slow to reload," he observed, handing the weapon back. "You will make more use of it than I would."

"A wise man doesn't refuse a gift," Durak said.

"A wise man knows his strengths," Vafiél countered, extending a hand and letting frost swirl around his slender fingers.

"Huh. You're a mage, then." The Orsimer didn't seem glad about it, but neither did he argue. "Fighting fire with fire, eh? Very well. Go up to the fort."

Vafiél glanced at Agmaer, and together, they climbed to the front steps of the fort. Another man, dressed similarly to Durak, waited at their crest. "New recruits? Go on in," he said. Vafiél pushed open one of the heavy doors and entered with the young Nord by his side.

Within, two men were conversing heatedly. Tension filled the circular room, stiffening even the cobwebs near the walls. Vafiél waited near the door with Agmaer. They hadn't been noticed.

"Why are you here, Tolan? The Vigilants and I were finished with each other a long time ago," said one of the men, deep and terse. A Redguard, bald and tall, though not as tall as Vafiél, with a thick black beard and an authoritative presence. _Isran, _Vafiél decided.

"You know why I'm here. The Vigilants are under attack everywhere. The vampires are much more dangerous than we believed," answered Tolan, a jowly man in an amusing mismatch of priest's robes and steel plate gauntlets and boots. Dirty ginger whiskers decorated the sides of his face, but that was all they could see, for he had a shoulder turned to them that hid his expression.

"And now you want to come running to safety with the Dawnguard, is that it? I remember Keeper Carcette telling me repeatedly that Fort Dawnguard is a crumbling ruin, not worth the expense and manpower to repair. And now that you've stirred up the vampires against you, you come begging for my protection?" Isran demanded, low and cold.

Tolan took a pleading step forward, desperation tainting his voice. "Isran, Carcette is dead. The Hall of the Vigilants... everyone... they're all _dead_. You were right, we were wrong. Isn't that enough for you?"

Isran turned his head. "Yes, well… I never wanted any of this to happen. I tried to warn all of you. I am… sorry, you know." It was at that moment he seemed to notice the pair by the door. Vafiél met his gaze and noticed it was a clear grey-blue, not unlike his own.

"You. Come here," said Isran. Vafiél stepped into the light. "So, who are you? What do you want?"

"Word has spread that you are looking for vampire hunters," Vafiél answered. "I came to see the fort for myself."

"You heard right. I'm glad word's finally starting to get around. But that means it won't be long before the vampires start to take notice as well," Isran mused darkly.

Vafiél eyed him carefully from beneath his hood. "I'll be helping you in some way, I assume?"

Isran hummed gruff agreement. "I need someone out in the field, taking the fight to the damn vampires, while we're getting the fort back into shape..." He touched his beard. "Tolan was telling me about some cave that the Vigilants were poking around in. Seemed to think it was related to these recent vampire attacks." He glanced at the oddly-dressed Vigilant. "Tolan, tell him about, what was it, Dimhollow?"

"Yes, that's it," said Tolan. "Dimhollow Crypt. Brother Adalvald was sure it held some long-lost vampire artefact of some kind. We didn't listen to him any more than we did Isran. He was at the Hall when it was attacked..." His sentence trailed off into silence, which Isran quickly filled.

"That's good enough for me. Go see what the vampires were looking for in this Dimhollow Crypt. With any luck, they'll still be there. Feel free to poke around the fort and take what you need. There isn't much yet, but you're welcome to anything you can use."

"Thank you," Vafiél replied, nodding gratefully.

Tolan glanced at Vafiél. "I'll meet you at Dimhollow. It's the least I can do to avenge my fallen comrades."

Vafiél was of a mind to protest, but Isran beat him to it. "Tolan, I don't think that's a good idea," he said slowly.

"I know what you think of us," said Tolan, slighted. "You think we're soft, that we're cowards. You think our deaths proved our weakness. Stendarr grant that you do not have to face the same test and be found wanting. I'm going to Dimhollow Crypt. Perhaps I can be of some small assistance to you."

_You'll likely get yourself killed or walk all over my runes, _Vafiél thought dismally, but said nothing, instead acquiescing with silence and a dip of his head. Tolan marked the location on his map, then left the room.

Isran turned his hard gaze on Agmaer, who hadn't yet approached. "You there, boy. Stop skulking in the shadows and step up here," he said. "What's your name?"

Agmaer hesitantly edged forward. "I'm, uh… My name is A-Agmaer, sir," he stammered.

"Do I look like a _sir_ to you, boy? I'm not a soldier, and you're not joining the army."

"Yes, si—Isran."

Vafiél glanced over his shoulder at Agmaer, simultaneously amused and reassuring.

"Didn't I tell you to step forward?" The young Nord came closer, levelling with Vafiél. "Hm… Farm boy, eh? What's your weapon?"

"Uh, my weapon? I m-mostly just use my pa's axe, when wolves are attacking the goats or something."

Isran tipped his head back and grinned ruefully at the ceiling. "_My pa's axe_. Stendarr preserve us." He laughed deeply and shook his head, looking over Agmaer. "Don't worry. I think we can make a Dawnguard out of you. Here, take this crossbow, and let's see how you shoot."

Agmaer blinked. "Uh, crossbow? I've never—"

"—yes, a crossbow. Best thing for killing vampires. Just take a few shots at those crates over there." Isran moved across the room with Agmaer, guiding his stance and his shot. "Watch the recoil. Takes some getting used to. That's it. Take a deep breath and let it out as you fire. You'll get the hang of it."

Vafiél decided to leave them to it, exiting through the front doors into the sunlight and taking out his map. It was east of Morthal, and south of the Dwemer ruin Mzinchaleft. There was no way around it: it was quite a distance to travel. _Best start now, _Vafiél thought to himself.

He retraced his journey back to Riften, regretful to bear the warm weather again, and rounded the city to the stables. From there, the easiest option was a ride by horse and carriage to Morthal, and that was what he did.

The trip, much like his journey to Fort Dawnguard, was dreary and uneventful, just the way he liked. He only spoke with the carriage driver to arrange passage to Morthal, and after his arrival outside the wintry town, he didn't speak at all. Vafiél had never been one for idle conversation with strangers, much less now.

This far north he seldom encountered people on the roads. Caravans rarely travelled through Labyrinthian, which Vafiél passed, and he encountered a frost troll on the way past the Lord Stone, but other than that his journey was unhindered—aside from the odd wolf pack.

The entrance to Dimhollow Crypt was a cave atop a short flight of stairs. Vafiél entered quietly so as not to draw unwanted attention, and crept through the short tunnel leading in. It rapidly opened to a cavern, dimly lit through gaps in the rocky ceiling. Snow covered the ground. Vafiél could hear water flowing through the spacious area, and above it, voices.

"These Vigilants never know when to give up. I thought we'd taught them enough of a lesson at their hall," snapped a man, irritated.

"To come in here alone… A fool, like all the rest of them," agreed a woman, smoother of tone.

"He fought well, though. Jeron and Bresoth were no match for him."

"Ha. Those two got what they deserved," the woman sneered. "Their arrogance had become insufferable."

Vafiél snuck closer, trying to see who was talking. He spotted the man and woman in front of a gated passage. Instinct told him they were vampires.

"All this talk is making me thirsty. Perhaps another Vigilant will wander in soon," the man said. Vafiél couldn't tell at this distance, but the tone of those words made him imagine the vampire licking his lips.

"I wish Lokil would hurry it up," the woman huffed. "I have half a mind to return to the castle and tell Harkon what a fool he's entrusted this mission to."

"And _I _have half a mind to tell Lokil of your disloyalty," the man purred.

"You wouldn't dare. Now shut up and keep on watch."

Their conversation seemed to have ended. Vafiél edged silently to the right of the precipice he stood on, searching for a clear shot; the man stood a few lengths away from the woman, on the opposite side to the gated passageway. Vafiél held a hand in front of his chest and formed a thin spear of ice that floated in his palm. He held his breath and aimed, then sent it flying at breakneck speed. It buried itself in the man's eye with precision. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Vafiél glanced over at the woman. A hound stood growling by her side, a red-eyed abomination that looked like it had been pulled straight from Oblivion. The vampire seemed to realise something was amiss then.

The angle made it difficult for Vafiél to hit her from where he was hidden, forcing him to creep down the pathway to his right and follow it up to the other side of the cavern. He noticed a sort of watchtower tucked away into the southwestern corner, on the same side he'd emerged from, and wondered if it might provide a vantage point for the shot.

Quickly, he slipped into the tower and ascended the stairs. Sure enough he found a window at the top that faced the gated passageway, in front of which he spotted the remaining vampire and a few bodies. Vafiél readied another spear and sent it through the woman's eye, just like he did with the man; and before the hound could sniff him out, he killed it too. As he stood up he noticed a pull-chain on the wall, and as he suspected, it opened the gate.

With the cavern cleared of enemies, Vafiél approached the passageway and inspected the bodies of the fallen. He found two deceased vampires—one of which appeared higher-ranking than the others—and a ginger-whiskered Nord.  
_Tolan, _Vafiél realised, crouching down and placing a hand on his chest. He must have killed the other vampires before he died. _May you find peace now. _Vafiél took a breath and continued through the passageway.

Parts of it appeared to be an ancient Nordic ruin—a knowledge that made Vafiél uncomfortable—while others seemed to have been excavated, no doubt by the vampires in search of whatever lay here. Vafiél emerged into a small open area, at the back of which he spotted a vampire near a few gravestones. He slayed her from a distance and dispatched the skeletons that rose to the ground in her place with ease.

The rooms which followed were similar, the odd mixture of Nordic ruin and necromantic cavern. Underground rivers ran through the cave system, providing watery ambience. Near what seemed to be the end of the crypt, Vafiél encountered a large gate and a male vampire on the other side fighting a giant frostbite spider. The man managed to kill the spider, and he glanced over his shoulder in Vafiél's direction, hissing, "Who goes there? Reveal yourself, or face my wrath!"

Vafiél knew he couldn't crouch in the shadows forever. He burst from the entryway and threw his hands out in front of him, hurling a beam of lightning at the vampire. Cool concentration claimed his mind and all he thought of in the moment was focusing the magic; he didn't hear the vampire scream and curse, didn't quite see him try to escape. Vafiél did see him disintegrate into ash.

Vafiél continued forward, hands shaking from the force of the beam and feeling lightheaded. An oak and iron door stood at the end of the room guarded by stone gargoyles—three of them, on the walls behind and to the sides of the lone door. Still quivering and unsteady, Vafiél eased it open and slipped through.

He emerged into a small room—no, a balcony—and immediately heard voices.  
"I'll never tell you anything, vampire. My oath to Stendarr is stronger th—" The man's bitter words were cut off by a strangled gurgle of pain.

Vafiél crept to the edge of the balcony and peered down at the scene below, taking slow breaths to calm and steady himself. Exhaustion was beginning to seep into him. How long had he been in this damned cave?

"Are you sure that was wise, Lokil? He still might have told us something," said a woman, exasperatedly. Vafiél stirred at the familiar name. "We haven't gotten anywhere ourselves with…"

"He knew nothing," Lokil spat. "He served his purpose by leading us to this place. Now it is up to us to bring Harkon the prize. And we will not return without it. Vingalmo and Orthjolf will make way for me after this."

"Yes, of course, Lokil. Do not forget who brought you news of the Vigilants' discovery," said the woman, tersely, as they started across a bridge to a circular stone island.

"I never forget who my friends are. Or my enemies," the man assured her.

The island, and the lake below it, was shrouded in darkness, but Vafiél could just make out rows of arches in concentric circles. It was a strange type of architecture he'd never seen before.

Vafiél descended staircases until he found the body of the Vigilant of Stendarr he'd heard speaking. Beside him a book lay open. Vafiél skimmed through it and concluded that this Vigilant—Adalvald, who Tolan had mentioned at the fort—had come to the same realisations Vafiél himself did: the architecture was unique, and seemed necromantic in origin, undoubtedly ancient. He took the book with him and slipped it into his cloak as he crept across the bridge.

Two swiftly shot ice spears dispatched the female vampire and her thrall, at a cost; Lokil noticed him and red light lit up his hand. With a heart beating like a trapped hummingbird and a mind like a frozen lake, Vafiél strafed sideways, lining Lokil up with the jagged rock wall. The Thu'um started to rise within him, and the Words lit his mind in clear blue, sitting in his throat like a cat ready to pounce. Vafiél breathed in sharply and Shouted—"_Fus Ro Dah_!"—and Lokil was sent flying into the rock, snapping his neck from the force as the sounds echoed strangely on the cavern walls. Speaking with the Thu'um was the only time Vafiél raised his voice at anything.

A pedestal sat in the centre of the island, and out from it spread ridges in the floor. Vafiél stepped closer to it and noticed a button. _A puzzle, _he decided. He pressed the button and stifled a cry of pain as a blade shot through his palm. Shock and alarm rooted him to the spot as his blood spilled over the edges of the pedestal. The blade retracted and Vafiél quickly cast a healing spell to close the wound. In the circular ridge around the pedestal, ethereal violet flames came to life; they spread away down one of the straight ridges to a brazier. Necromantic indeed.

Vafiél pushed the brazier to the end of the line of fire and the brazier lit itself. He repeated this process until violet flames illuminated all of the ridges and made the island glow. The puzzle appeared solved then. The ground lowered in ridges and a pentagonal monolith rose from the central pedestal. Curious, Vafiél touched the monolith's cool surface, but he quickly jerked back when the surface sank away into the ground, revealing someone inside it.

A woman, black-haired, dressed in vampire's armour of higher quality than all the others he'd seen. She fell out of the monolith and caught herself on her hands with a muffled grunt before standing up and opening her eyes. They glowed amber now that the violet flames had been extinguished.

Vafiél watched her, unsure of what to do or say, and she stared back, looking how he felt.

"Where is… Who sent you here?" she asked, low and quiet, rasping like someone who'd just woken up.

"Uh… Who were you expecting?" Vafiél asked, slowly.

"I was expecting someone… like me, at least," the woman answered. A slight frown furrowed her brow.

"You're a vampire," he said, not quite a question.

"Yes."

Vafiél hesitated. Isran would have murdered her in a second, but there was something strange about this place, about this woman. "Why were you locked away like this?" he asked, keeping all harshness from his voice.

She bit her lip. "That's… complicated, and I'm not totally sure if I can trust you."

_Nor I you, _he thought to himself.

"But if you want to know the whole story, help me get back to my family's home."

Vafiél released a breath. "Alright. Where do you need to go?"

"My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude. I would guess they still do. By the way… My name is Serana."

"Mine is Vafiél," he told her. The introduction tasted strange to say; it had been so long since he'd properly introduced himself to someone.

"Good to meet you." Serana rolled her shoulders and looked around, seeming confused of her surroundings.

As they found a way off the island, Vafiél said, "Tell me about this… home of yours."

"It's a short way off the coast. Hopefully we can find a boat to take us there," she answered, staying by his side. "Not the most welcoming place, but depending on who's around, I'll be safe there."

He raised a brow, though she wouldn't have seen it. "Someone you don't want to see?"

She sighed. "My father and I don't really get along… Ugh. Saying it out loud makes it sound so _common_. Little girl who doesn't get along with her father. Read that story a hundred times."

Vafiél hummed shortly, glancing at her sideways. "I see you have an Elder Scroll."

"Yes." Her voice sharpened for a moment. "And it's mine."

To take the edge off the subject, he asked, "Were you in that monolith for very long?"

"Good question. I… I can't really tell. I feel like it was a long time," she admitted. "Who is Skyrim's High King?"

Vafiél laughed through his nose. "That's actually a matter of debate."

"Oh, wonderful. A war of succession," she groaned. "Good to know the world didn't get boring while I was gone. Who are the contenders?"

"Well, the Empire supports Jarl Elisif, but there are many in Skyrim loyal to Jarl Ulfric," Vafiél answered.

"Empire? What… what empire?"

Vafiél halted in his steps. "The… Empire. From Cyrodiil," he said slowly.

"Cyrodiil is the seat of an empire? I must have been gone longer than I thought. Definitely longer than we planned." Worry tinged her voice. "Please, let's hurry. I need to get home so I can figure out what's happened."

"I'll get you there as quick as I can," Vafiél assured her. "Stay close."

He led her northeast over a bridge. The moment they stepped onto the landing, two of the stone gargoyles exploded to life with roars of grating rock. Vafiél's breath caught in his throat. "Serana," he said quickly, frost flowing through his fingers, "how do we kill them?"

"Attack normally," she answered, readying destruction magic similar to his own.

That was all he needed. Vafiél focused on the left gargoyle, shooting spears of ice through its eyes and neck. As it fell he saw the other raising a clawed hand to strike at Serana. Vafiél didn't hesitate to blast it away from her, over the edge of the platform and into the lake.

"Thanks," she breathed. "Still waking up."

"Take your time," he murmured, amused.

They turned right up a slope and through a wooden door, into another Nordic-looking area. Vafiél ascended the stairs to find draugr exiting their coffins and skeletons emerging from the darkness. He dispatched them quickly with Serana's help.

"I'll bet that lever opens the gate," she said, gesturing to a lever on a dais.

"Try it. I'm going to check the room for anything we've missed," Vafiél told her, retracing his steps to the lower level and scouring the room. He encountered a chest for his troubles, and within it, a spell tome. The cover read 'Necromantic Healing.' Vafiél glanced over at Serana, who was near the now-open gate. _This will come in handy. Should read it when we make camp. _

Through the gate they emerged into a large, cavernous room with a fiery pit in the centre and several staircases leading down to its depths.

"I don't like the look of this," Serana whispered, glancing up at him.

Vafiél met her gaze from beneath his hood. "Neither do I," he whispered back. "Look." He pointed to a throne at the edge of the pit where a draugr lord sat. "It can probably Shout. I may need to match its Voice with my own, so please, be careful."

"You can Shout?" Serana whispered, clearly seeking elaboration.

"This isn't the time or place to explain. Perhaps later I'll tell you why I can Shout." Vafiél took a deep breath. "Are you ready?"

"I'll follow your lead."

He nodded and aimed an attack, sending a spear of ice through the draugr's chest. It stirred to life immediately, cursing them and growling. Other draugr burst from their coffins at the lord's command and diverted Vafiél's attention as they fell on him. He stayed close to Serana as they fought off the lesser draugr, but Vafiél saw the lord's eyes flash and heard it say _Fus…_ Alarmed it might send Serana into the wall, Vafiél quickly countered the Shout by mirroring the draugr's Words. Both Thu'ums cancelled each other as they met. Enraged, the lord swung its wicked battleaxe at Vafiél, who dodged it nimbly and fought back with destruction magic. With Serana's help, they managed to fell the lord in a few more moments.

"You could bring the whole place down by Shouting like that," she told him.

"I know my strength," Vafiél murmured. "You may not trust me as a person—and I can't trust you yet, either—but you can trust in my abilities."

She watched him curiously for a moment, then seemed to relent. "Let's keep moving."

They started toward the exit when Vafiél passed by a Word Wall. The Word illuminated on it shone bright blue, pulling at his soul, calling him from beyond life. He approached it and read the inscription, his vision hazing and homing in on the illuminated letters. _Gaan_, stamina. A shout to drain the mortal energies from an opponent.

"_Gaan_," he whispered, tasting the Word against the stone. It was a dark Shout. He wasn't sure if he'd ever bring himself to use it.

"Vafiél?" Serana called.

"Coming," he replied, continuing forward with her.

They passed through a pair of wooden doors and then a short, icy tunnel before finally leaving the crypt for the outside world. It was a few hours before dawn, when the world was awash with blue and the sun hadn't yet risen.

"Ah, it's so good to breathe again," said Serana, pulling up her hood. "Even in the cold, it's better than that cave."

"Not fond of cool weather?" Vafiél asked, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Not particularly," she replied. "Though I guess sunlight would be worse."

"Let's find somewhere shaded, then. It's been a long while since I last slept."

She laughed quietly. "I guess I'll keep watch. I've had enough sleep to last a lifetime."

"Several, actually," he remarked, fighting a smirk. "Forgive me. I'm mortal, and mortals need sleep."

"Alright, alright. But we should go indoors somewhere. The sunlight isn't good for my skin, if you know what I mean," Serana told him. "Maybe we could stop at an inn or something. I'm not opposed to visiting a city if—"

"—no," he interrupted. "I try to avoid cities."

She eyed him carefully. "You're a wanted man?"

Vafiél crossed his arms. "I've committed no crimes, but I'm in danger all the same. I can't say more than that." He took a breath. "We should find somewhere to stop before the sun rises. Actually…" Vafiél took out his map. "Well, my home isn't too far from here," he admitted. "A couple of hours, at most. We could make it there before sunrise. I planned to stop there before… we met."

"Seems like we're both keeping secrets… Fine. Lead the way," Serana told him, watching him warily.

He hesitated for a moment. "I understand your distrust of me, but I have no intentions of harming you. If I did, I wouldn't be foolish enough to suggest sleeping in your company. On my honour, don't be afraid."

She half-smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Aren't _you _afraid of _me_? I'm a vampire, and yet you're willing to sleep around me?"

"If it falls to me to extend a branch of trust, then so be it," Vafiél murmured. "Let's go."

Serana nodded and followed him down the snowy slope.

"So… Is there anything you can tell me about yourself?" Serana asked as they walked.

Vafiél hummed thoughtfully, wondering at what to tell her. "I enjoy cold weather. I'm fond of cats. And… I don't have many friends anymore. None, actually."

"I know what it's like to be lonely," she said quietly.

Eager to change the subject, Vafiél glanced at her and asked, "What about you?"

"Oh. There isn't much to tell right now," Serana said apologetically.

"It seems that way. Sorry. I'm not used to having a travelling companion," Vafiél murmured. "I've forgotten how to be social."

Serana laughed. "You'll remember soon enough. It's a long way to my family's home."

Vafiél awkwardly smoothed out his cloak, wondering what mess he'd gotten himself into.

As he'd estimated, they reached his home before sunrise. It was a circular tower named Myrwatch, long abandoned, small enough to be cosy. "Here we are," Vafiél announced. He unlocked the door with a spell and gestured for Serana to enter.

"I guess I should have expected a mage tower," she mused, climbing the stairs to the first floor.

Within, the main chamber was divided into a central area slightly lowered from the two side areas, with places to sit in the hollow by the embers of a dying fire.

"It isn't much, but I do have many bookcases full of books you can read," Vafiél told her, heading over to the left side to his bed. He sat on the edge and rubbed his eyes, wondering if it was worth taking off his hooded cloak to sleep more comfortably. Serana stood leaning sideways against the wall, watching him. In the end, he decided it couldn't hurt that much. He'd saved her life once already; surely she wouldn't be so quick to judge him.

Vafiél unclasped the cloak and set it on the end of the bed, smoothing his hair back and bringing his long braid over his shoulder.

"You're an elf," Serana commented. "I should've guessed from your name."

"Probably," he agreed. "Most are not so fond of elves here in Skyrim."

Serana's expression softened. "Looks like we're both shunned, one way or another."

Vafiél nodded quietly.

"That's a deep scar you have," she added, curious.

Vafiél touched his brow self-consciously. "I know. It didn't heal very well."

She smiled to herself oddly and looked away. "I'll let you rest. Don't take too long."

"You can wake me after a few hours," Vafiél replied, watching her walk away for a moment before retrieving the spell tome he'd found in Dimhollow and absorbing the runes. That was the last thing he did before settling into an uneasy sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: A Question of Character

**Chapter 2: A Question of Character**

**A/N: Hello again! I'm aiming for weekly updates for this story, but I figured I'd release this one to give the story a bit more substance before starting an upload schedule. There's a slightly different format in this chapter; let me know which you prefer. Also, this chapter introduces perspective switches. I don't put warnings before each switch, but it's easy to tell which perspective it is. Enjoy.**

* * *

The shelves were almost overflowing with histories, biographies, spell tomes and accounts, but what Serana found most interesting were the anatomy textbooks.

As it turned out, her pale, secretive rescuer was more than just an antisocial mage. He'd written volumes upon volumes of books detailing biological information on all types of creatures, be they human, Mer, or beastfolk. And not just that—he'd even _drawn _right into the books, complex sketches of everything he wrote. Musculature, nerves, blood systems. His strange applications of spells like Detect Life had led to some fascinating discoveries indeed.

And when she'd finished admiring the books on fauna, she discovered his tomes on flora, full of alchemical information and beaded with long words she'd never read before. It was the kind of collection that took decades to amass. He'd written about everything from fish to nirnroots, Dwemer automatons and Telvanni fungal spores, frost trolls and even _dragons_.

It made her wonder even more who this man was. He had to be older than he looked, which wouldn't be strange—not for an Altmer, which was her best guess at his heritage—but she couldn't shake the feeling something was _wrong _about him. He was completely isolated. He avoided major cities. He kept his features hidden. His eyes were haunted by atrocities she couldn't begin to imagine.  
And he'd written textbooks like none she'd seen elsewhere.

_By the blood, who are you?_

Serana shut an alchemical textbook with a muted snap and glanced over at Vafiél's sleeping form. His expression was tense and the tips of his ears twitched every so often. She'd heard him utter some broken syllables in his sleep that she thought might have been a name, but it was hard to tell. It sounded vaguely like 'Eleana.' Serana wondered who he grieved for, but wasn't sure she really wanted the answer.

He'd overslept, but she didn't wake him; better that they start travelling at sunset and through the night to avoid the sunlight as much as possible. Serana laughed quietly through her nose when she realised she was subtly conditioning Vafiél into being nocturnal like her.

The sun was starting to dip into the horizon when she finally tried to wake him. He looked thinner without the cloak hiding his body from view. Warm rose light washed the chamber and softened his features and he looked peaceful at last, making her feel a little guilty for disturbing his rest, but it had to be done.

"Vafiél?" Serana murmured. "Vafiél, wake up." She tentatively reached out and touched his shoulder. He stirred with a slight frown and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of a dagger at his waist, eyes cold and hard, before recognition smoothed his face and he relaxed again.

"Serana," he said quietly, voice rasping from disuse. Vafiél blinked sleepily and glanced around the room before his gaze settled on her again. "I've overslept."  
"Looks like we have that in common," she murmured, amused. "I figured we could set off at dusk."

"Of course. I'll just need a few minutes to prepare," Vafiél said, sitting up. The blushing light fell tenderly on his hair, turning the silver to gold, illuminating his fair elven features. She must have forgotten what Altmer looked like while she was asleep.

Vafiél stood and went about menial tasks, packing supplies and tidying his appearance, and Serana milled about him while she wondered how to broach the subject of the books. As he was brushing out his long hair, she asked, "How long did it take to write all those textbooks?"

His hand paused mid-stroke and he glanced at her, for a moment silent. Then: "Many years. I took my work very seriously and spent much time performing field research." He tilted his head curiously and resumed with the brush. "You read them?"

"Skimmed," Serana replied. "They're fascinating. And the drawings…"  
Vafiél smiled and looked away. "They see no use now. I'm glad someone could appreciate them."

"I'm sure the College of Winterhold would kill to have those books. Instead, they're up here, locked away in a forgotten tower." Serana saw a shadow pass over his gaze, like a cloud moves in front of the moon. "Just like you. You're a skilled mage. Why—"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," Vafiél warned her, softly. He braided his hair quickly and sighed, looking over at her. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes. Are you?" she asked, folding her arms.

"Almost. I'll meet you outside in a moment."

Serana gave him a questioning look.

"Unless, of course, you plan on watching me change," he added, mirroring her expression.

She laughed and raised her hands defensively. "Alright, I'm going."

* * *

As promised, he met her outside after a few moments, wearing a fresh hooded cloak. This one was a rich midnight blue. "Let's be off," said Vafiél, leading the way along the north-western road.

For the first few hours, they made good ground. It was a cool, clear night, and the waxing moon provided enough light to find their way and keep the right direction. Serana didn't mind the pace Vafiél set with those long legs of his. The night gave her the strength to level with him.

At around midnight they encountered a pair of bandits looting a cart next to a dead horse. They dressed in dirty furs, and didn't seem to realise what they were getting into when they threatened Vafiél and Serana.

"No closer," spat one of the bandits, brandishing an iron axe. "Get out of here."  
"This is a main road," Vafiél said lowly. "Move aside and let us pass, and we'll not trouble you."

"Ha. So he says," sneered the other bandit, whose head was half-shaven. "Looks like we'll have to kill these ones too. He talks funny. Bet he's rich. What do you say, Hald?"

"A rich man and a pretty lady," said the axe-holding bandit. "Couldn't ask for a better pair. We'll have fun with her, we will."

Serana immediately sensed danger at her side when Vafiél's hands clenched into fists. She could imagine the fury in his eyes even if she couldn't see it. Not a second passed before both bandits fell dead with icicles in their throats, and her old fears died with them.

The smell of the kill reminded her how hungry she was. She salivated at the thought of feeding on the bandits, but wondered if it would disgust Vafiél. Before she even had a chance to ask, he spoke.

"Assuming you haven't fed while I slept, you must be starved. I will wait for you up ahead," Vafiél murmured. Without another word, he continued down the path.

Once she'd had her fill, she found him leaning against a tree. He straightened at her approach and gave her a quick once-over. "Better," Vafiél said decisively, and they resumed their long march.

A fort loomed to their right when the sky began to lighten and the sun's light hovered below the horizon. Vafiél strayed from the road to look in the side of the mountain for a nook or overhang where they could rest.

She'd protested at first. "I can handle an hour or so of sunlight," she had insisted, but he could not be swayed.

"I won't put you in harm's way. I know how the sun hurts you, and I can't go on in good conscience," Vafiél had said, and that was it.

After a few long minutes of searching, he called her over to a sheltered overhang of rock, an abandoned den of some sort.

"Another cave. Not going to lock me up in this one, are you?" Serana quipped lightly.

Vafiél's laugh was barely audible. "This one's too small."

Serana shook her head, smiling, and laid out her bed roll. It was her turn to be tired. "Will you keep watch?"

"Of course," he assured her, sitting with his back to the rock and watching the entrance of the shallow cave. "Sleep well."

She drifted off to quiet birdsong.

* * *

At midday, Vafiél woke her so he could sleep, and at sunset she woke him in turn so they could set off. Serana marked a rough indication of where the jetty was on his map and he stared at it thoughtfully.

"The quickest way seems to be through Dragon Bridge," said Vafiél as they prepared to leave the cave. He didn't seem fond of the idea. "Under normal circumstances I'd suggest a detour, but we've delayed enough already. We'll have to pass through quickly—if you want to stay the night, you're welcome to, but I'll wait for you outside the town."

Serana shook her head. "We've come this far, and you're not getting rid of me that easily," she told him with a hint of a smirk. Her tone shifted to seriousness when she added, "I want to get home as quickly as possible."

Vafiél nodded, raised his hood, and again set a brisk pace along the road.

* * *

They reached Dragon Bridge a few hours before dawn. Vafiél was stiff and silent the whole time they walked through, and Serana struggled to stay at his side without breaking into a trot and drawing attention.

Just out of the town, Vafiél veered west off the road and toward a mountain pass. It was almost dawn by the time he relaxed again, when they were far from Dragon Bridge.

* * *

The day that followed was much the same as the last; they found a sheltered hollow in the mountainside to sleep in until sundown, and that night they descended the mountains using a game trail that led down to the coast.

Being nocturnal didn't bother Vafiél all that much. The night held a certain appeal; and more importantly, his travelling companion didn't burn alive.

"This must be that beautiful Skyrim weather I've heard so much about," Serana muttered, drawing a thick cloak closer around herself.

He glanced at her. Snowflakes whirled around her on a frigid breeze, and she didn't look very pleased. Vafiél couldn't say the same. "We're nearly there," he said over the wind. "You'll be home soon."

She looked up at him with a smile that didn't reach her eyes and said nothing.

When they finally reached the jetty, the wind and snow had abated. Vafiél stood near the canoe and squinted into the distance. He spotted pointed towers and expanses of stone. _That isn't a house. That's a castle! _

"This is the part where we get in the boat. You with me?" Serana asked.

He turned to meet her gaze. "You forgot to mention you lived in a _castle_," Vafiél remarked, eager for an explanation.

"I didn't want you to think I was one of those... you know, the women who just sit in their castle all day?" Serana bit her lip. "I don't know. Coming from a place like this, well... It's not really me. I hope you can believe that."

Vafiél let his expression soften. "I think I can," he murmured, pushing the canoe out and sitting in it with the oars. Once she'd joined him, he rowed them out to the island.

When they finally landed, the castle sat like a crouched beast looking down at them with displeasure. Its size was enough to intimidate, but more than that, Vafiél wondered what kind of reception he'd get. Would these vampires attack him on sight, or would Serana's presence be enough to keep them from harming him? It would speak measures about her status.

They started walking up the bridge to the castle's maw, but Serana slowed to a stop before they reached the doors.

"Hey, so… Before we go in there…" she murmured, glancing up at him.

Vafiél paused and doubled back a few steps. "Are you alright, Serana?" he asked gently.

"I think so. And thanks for asking," she answered. "I wanted to thank you for getting me this far. But after we get in there, I'm going to go my own way for a while. I hope..." She sighed and folded her arms. "I know the Dawnguard would probably want to kill everything in here. I'm hoping you can show some more control than that."

"You know I won't do anything stupid," Vafiél assured her.

"I just had to be sure. And… Once we're inside, just keep quiet for a bit. Let me take the lead," she added.

"Fine. After you, then." Vafiél gestured for her to go ahead and followed her into the castle.

Inside they emerged onto a balcony. A male vampire immediately regarded him with hostility and Vafiél tensed.

"How dare you trespass here!" the vampire snarled, but then he realised who else had entered. "Wait… Serana? Is that truly you?"

"It's me, Vingalmo," she answered.

"I cannot believe my eyes!" He hurried to the balcony and declared, "My lord! Everyone! Lady Serana has returned!"

Serana shot Vafiél a wry smile. "Guess I'm expected."

Vafiél barely noticed her quip. He was too busy watching the vampires and wondering how he'd possibly escape if they turned on him.

He followed Serana down a set of stairs leading into the dining hall they overlooked. The smell of gore and decay assaulted him and made nausea rise in his chest, but he didn't react.

A man in regal vampire's armour rose from his place at the dais and stood in the centre of the room. "My long-lost daughter returns at last," he said, strong and authoritative. "I trust you have my Elder Scroll?"

Serana bristled. "After all these years, that's the first thing you ask me? Yes, I have the scroll," she answered thornily.

"Of course I'm delighted to see you, my daughter. Must I really say the words aloud? Ah, if only your traitor mother were here, I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike." The man smiled severely. "Now tell me, who is this stranger you have brought into our hall?"

Vafiél tensed as he came to stand beside Serana in front of the man he assumed was her father. The one she didn't get along with. Vafiél thought he could see why now.

"This is my savior, the one who freed me," Serana answered, looking over at Vafiél.

The man gazed at Vafiél with hungry eyes and looked him over. "For my daughter's safe return, you have my gratitude," he said finally. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"I am Vafiél. And you are…?"

"I am Harkon, lord of this court. By now, my daughter will have told you what we are." The man raised a brow.

"Vampires," Vafiél said, answering the unasked question. "Very old vampires. No doubt powerful ones, if the castle is any indication."

"Precisely," Harkon agreed. "Clever, aren't you? Yes, for centuries we lived here, far from the cares of the world. All that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most."

Vafiél glanced at Serana, but didn't dare comment.

"Now," said Harkon, "you have done me a great service, and you must be rewarded. There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter. I offer you my blood. Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again." Harkon grinned, as if he'd made an offer no one would pass up.

Vafiél was repulsed even by the thought of it. He'd seen what vampirism did to people, and immortality had always been a curse, not a blessing. "And what if I refuse this gift?" he asked calmly.

Harkon's face soured. "Then you will be prey, like all mortals. I will spare your life this once, but you will be banished from this hall." When Vafiél said nothing, he grew irritated. "Perhaps you still need convincing. Behold the power!"

The man became engulfed by darkness until he emerged with a red flash and a roar as a grotesque monstrosity, pale and tall, with twisted wings sprouting from its back and large clawed hands. It hovered just above the floor.

"This is the power that I offer! Now, make your choice, mortal!" Harkon demanded.

Vafiél did not cower before the hideous creature in front of him. With a voice like still water, he said, "I refuse."

Harkon growled. "So be it! You are prey, like all mortals. I banish you!"

Vafiél glanced at Serana, who was watching him. "Take care," he said quietly. "I hope we'll meet again someday."

The smile she gave in return was sad and hollow. "You too, Vafiél."

Harkon extended a clawed hand glowing with magic and attempted to cast a banishment spell on Vafiél. Blinding blue-white light interrupted it and shielded Vafiél from the spell.

"I will leave this castle on my own terms," Vafiél said, and with that, he walked away.


	3. Chapter 3: Truth

**Chapter 3: Truth**

**A/N: Welcome back! This chapter is longer than the last. I aim to update this story every Monday at 12pm AEST (Australian Eastern Standard Time). Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. Enjoy!**

* * *

Rain speckled the cobblestones and clouds masked the moons as Vafiél emerged once more into Dayspring Canyon. It was a humid night, dark and cold and uninviting. The kind of night most would spend at home in bed.

It had taken him the better part of a week to journey across Skyrim again, and he hadn't broken out of his nocturnal pattern yet. A strange emptiness plagued his travels. As foreign as it had been to have company, he found himself missing Serana; Vafiél told himself it was merely a lack of routine, and he'd adjust to solitude again soon—he always did—but he had to wonder if that was the truth or a lie of comfort.

Now he walked alone. No one accompanied him to watch his back on his travels, no one but him would face Isran's wrath. Part of him recoiled from the idea of returning to Fort Dawnguard, but Vafiél was not eager to cheat fate by avoiding this place. He had to confront Isran and tell him about the vampires and their Elder Scroll.

As he climbed to the front entrance of the fort, he began to hear commotion and the sounds of a struggle. Wary, Vafiél made haste, and found Isran and a few other Dawnguard locked in battle with three vampires.

Vafiél shot forward to alter his angle. With two of the vampires in his line of fire he unleashed a beam of lightning that turned them to ash within the space of a heartbeat. Isran felled the other with a crushing hit from his warhammer.

"Look at this," Isran spat, glaring hatred at the dead vampire. "I should've known it was only a matter of time before they found us. It's the price we pay for openly recruiting." He shook his head and turned to the other warriors, which Vafiél recognised as Durak and the other man he'd met the first time. "We'll have to step up our defences. More guards and fortifications." He turned his hard gaze on Vafiél. "I don't suppose you have any good news for me," Isran grated out.

Vafiél stepped closer while the other warriors left. "I have news, but not the kind you want to hear," he replied evenly.

Isran exhaled sharply and put a hand on his hip. "Of course. Why did I suppose differently? Fine. Tell me what you know."

"I found a woman in Dimhollow," Vafiél murmured. "I don't think the vampires knew exactly what they were after in the crypt."

Isran frowned. "A woman? Trapped in there? That doesn't make any sense. Who is she? More importantly, _where_ is she?"

"In a castle west of Solitude." Vafiél didn't trust Isran with the exact location. His fanaticism and obsessive hatred was evident, and Vafiél didn't know enough about Serana's situation to make a judgement on her nature. "She is the daughter of an ancient vampire lord."

Isran seemed to become more incensed by the second. "And you delivered her to them. You gave them exactly what they were looking for," he snapped.

"There's more," Vafiél said, keeping his tone calm despite his frustration with Isran. "They have an Elder Scroll."

Fury engulfed Isran. "They _what_? And you didn't stop them? Why didn't you secure the scroll?" he demanded.

"You expect me to steal an Elder Scroll from an ancient vampire? Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?" asked Vafiél, icily. "We wouldn't be having this conversation if I took it."

Isran shook his head and rubbed his face. "By the Divines, this couldn't get much worse. This is far more than you and I can handle."

Vafiél sighed and folded his arms. "What do you plan on doing?"

"We… We need help," Isran admitted, anger dissipating. "If they're bold enough to attack us here, then this may be bigger than I thought. I have good men here, but... There are people I've met and worked with over the years. We need their skills, their talents, if we're going to survive this. If you can find them, we might have a chance."

"Fine. Who are they, and where can I find them?"

"Right to the point, aren't you? I like that. Not like those fools in the Order," Isran said with begrudging approval. "We should keep it small. Too many people, and we'll draw unwanted attention to ourselves." He paused thoughtfully, touching his beard. "I think we'll want Sorine Jurard. Breton girl, whip-smart and good with tinkering. Fascination with the Dwemer. Weapons in particular. Last I knew, she was out in the Reach, convinced she was about to find the biggest dwarven ruins yet."

"Will she agree to help us?" Vafiél asked, putting aside his distaste.

"Might need a little convincing, but she should. You'll also want to find Gunmar. Big brute of a Nord, hates vampires almost as much as I do. Got it into his head years back that his experience with animals would help. Good with trolls, from what I hear. Last I knew he was out scouring Skyrim for more beasts to tame. Should be in the Rift, sniffing around caves. Bring the two of them back here, and we can get started on coming up with a plan."

Vafiél took a deep breath. "Alright. I'll make my preparations. I expect these friends of yours will arrive back before I do."

"Watch yourself out there," said Isran, and returned to the fort.

* * *

Of all the missions to be sent on, Vafiél didn't think repairing Isran's fractured relationships would be one of them. He'd have been a fool to refuse after what he'd done, though, so off he went, the friendship mender.

The title didn't fit him at all.

After resting through the day and leaving Dayspring Canyon at sunset, Vafiél kept the mountains to his right and journeyed north, keeping an eye out for cave entrances.

He'd just passed the trail leading up to Black-Briar Lodge when he came across a man and a boy. The man was slumped against a tree with an arrow lodged in his chest. Tears had cleaned tracks on the boy's dirty face and his hands were stained in blood.

The boy ran to Vafiél and closed small fingers around the edge of his cloak. "Please help me, mister," he begged. "My papa is hurt really bad."

Without hesitation, Vafiél crouched beside the wounded man and placed two fingers at his neck, measuring his pulse. It was dangerously slow.

"My boy… Please… Save my boy… Take him… Take him… Windhelm…" the man rasped, breaking off into a fit of weak coughs.

"Hush," Vafiél murmured. "Be still." If there was even the slightest chance of saving him, he would try. He had to try.

Vafiél placed a hand on the Nord's chest, the blood stark on his pale skin. "Breathe," he soothed the man as the restoration spell began to take effect. The arrow dislodged just so, allowing Vafiél to withdraw it without tearing the skin as the man's flesh wove together again. "Tell me your name."

"Ulfgir," the Nord answered. "You… You've saved my life."

"Papa!" the boy exclaimed. "You're okay!"

"That I am," Ulfgir said softly, embracing his son. He then stood up and met Vafiél's gaze. "You must accompany us to Windhelm, kind stranger, that I may repay my debt to you."

Alarm turned Vafiél's blood to fire. "You honour me," he said nervously, "but I'm afraid I cannot. I have other commitments."

"Ah." Ulfgir looked disappointed, but tried to hide it. "Well… If you should ever need anything from me, pay us a visit. I used to study at the College of Winterhold, and I still have contacts there. Perhaps I can be of use to you in your travels."

"I'll remember that. Thank you," Vafiél said quietly. "Stay safe." He watched the pair leave, then continued north.

* * *

He came across a cave within the hour and another burly Nord called out to him, saying, "You there, hold fast! I've tracked this damned bear for two weeks; I'll not let it have any more victims."

Vafiél approached and looked him over. He was surprisingly well-groomed, with ginger hair and a beard to match. "May I ask your name?"

"Gunmar. Animal expert."

_Lucky to find him so soon. _"I've been looking for you. Isran needs your help," said Vafiél.

"Isran? Needing someone else's help? Never thought I'd hear that," Gunmar scoffed. "I'm afraid he's a few years too late; I've moved on. I have more important business to attend to. Besides, he can handle anything alone—he assured me so himself. What could he possibly need my help with?"

"Isran lets pride and hatred cloud his judgement," Vafiél told him. "But he is right about one thing: the vampires are a threat that must be dealt with."

"Vampires? That... Well, that might change things. Tell me more about what's going on," Gunmar requested, brow furrowing.

"We don't have concrete information yet, but they possess an Elder Scroll," Vafiél murmured. "It won't be long before they find a way to read it."

"By the Eight..." Gunmar took a breath. "All right, look. I'll consider it, but I can't just leave this bear to prey on more innocent people. Once it's dealt with, then perhaps I'll see what Isran expects of me."

"I'll assist you," Vafiél offered. "We could get it done much quicker together."

"I was hoping you'd say that. You got a sword somewhere in that cloak?" Gunmar asked.

"I'm a mage," Vafiél told him. "Lead on."

* * *

"Don't know how well I'd have managed by myself. You have my thanks," Gunmar said as they exited the cave. "You've helped me, so I suppose the least I can do is find out what Isran wants. He's still at that fort near Stendarr's Beacon, I assume?"

"Yes. Fort Dawnguard. He asked that you meet him there," Vafiél replied.

Gunmar laughed and hefted the bear's pelt over his shoulder. "He's been working on that place for years now. His own little fortress. Well, I guess I'll get to see what he's been up to all this time. I'll meet you there."

"Safe travels." They parted ways and Vafiél sat on a rock to figure out his next destination. A Dwemer ruin in the Reach… How was he ever to find this woman?

Dread pooled in his stomach. He could be wandering around the pine forest for weeks before he found her. Vafiél sighed and shook his head. This was hopeless. Why had Isran been so vague? Was this a test? Ire and frustration made him grind his teeth.

Vafiél steadied himself and quelled his anger, knowing it wouldn't help him now. All he could do was visit the Dwemer ruins in the Reach and look for Sorine Jurard nearby.

As it turned out, the only ruin of note was Bthardamz. Vafiél scouted around the area but encountered no one around the main site; what he _did _find was an overgrown pathway leading north and a small footbridge across the river. A few broken Dwemer pillars littered the ground and some mudcrabs sat half-buried near the bank. A woman milled about, pacing back and forth, muttering to herself about something.

Vafiél approached her and tilted his head curiously. "Are you Sorine?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh. Hello. Yes, that's me," the woman answered. "Have you seen my satchel? It's full of Dwarven gyros. I need them for my research. They're very important. Who are you, again?"

_Brilliant. A scatterbrained scholar. _"Isran asked me to find you. He needs your help."

"Isran? Wants me? Oh no, you must be mistaken. He made it exceedingly clear the last time we spoke that he had no interest in my help. I find it hard to believe he's changed his mind," Sorine told him, serious in an airy, distracted sort of way. "He said some very hurtful things to me before I left, you see. Anyway, I'm quite happy in my current pursuits. So if you'll excuse me…"

Vafiél was in no mood for pleasantries. "Vampires threaten Skyrim. This is a dire matter you cannot ignore," he said.

"Vampires? Really? Oh, and I suppose _now_ he remembers that I proposed no less than three different scenarios that involved vampires overrunning the population." Sorine folded her arms. "Well, what are they up to?"

"They have an Elder Scroll."

She stared in surprise. "I... Well, that's actually something I never would've anticipated. Interesting. I'm not sure what they would do with one, but in this case Isran is probably correct in thinking it isn't good." Sorine hummed in thought. "Alright. If nothing else, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to learn more about what's going on so I can better defend myself. But I'm not just going to abandon what I've been working on here. It's too useful. I need at least one intact Dwarven gyro. You wouldn't happen to have one, would you?"

Vafiél sighed. _There isn't time for this. _"Fine, I'll find your satchel," he droned. "Where did you leave it?"

"I think the mudcrabs took it," she mused. "Check by the water while I pack my things."

_What, am I everyone's errand boy, now? _he thought dryly. Vafiél found the satchel within the space of a minute and handed it back to her. "There. Now, Isran is waiting at Fort Dawnguard, so get there as quick as you can."

"Ah. Been working more on his secret hideout, has he? It'll be interesting to see how much progress he's made. I'll finish up here and head in that direction as soon as I can. See you there." Sorine went into her tent and Vafiél was glad to be away from her as he set off down the road again.

* * *

After another long trip across the country, Vafiél arrived yet again at Fort Dawnguard. He was pleased to find an increase in fortifications and sentries. It seemed like Isran had made some progress in turning this into a proper fortress—and recruiting people, if the new additions in the training yard were any indication. The sun had just risen; exhaustion weighed him.

When Vafiél entered the fort, Gunmar and Sorine were waiting within, and Isran stood on the balcony, watching them.

"Hold it right there!" Isran shouted. He touched something on the wall and bright sunlight flooded the room in a circle that surrounded them.

"What are you doing?" Sorine asked, squinting.

"Making sure you're not vampires," Isran answered darkly. "Can't be too careful." The bright light dissipated as he turned off the mechanism. "So, welcome to Fort Dawnguard. I'm sure you've heard a bit of what we're up against. Powerful vampires, unlike anything we've seen before. And they have an Elder Scroll. If anyone is going to stand in their way, it's going to be us."

"This is all well and good," said Gunmar, "but do we actually know anything about what they're doing? What's your plan, Isran?"

"We'll get to that. For now, get acquainted with the space. Sorine, you'll find room to start your tinkering on that crossbow design you've been working on. Gunmar, there's an area large enough for you to pen up some trolls, get them armoured up and ready for use." The two he mentioned nodded and left to start their work. "In the meantime," Isran added, staring at Vafiél, "we're going to get to the bottom of why a vampire showed up here looking for you. Let's go have a little chat with it, shall we?" Hatred bled into his voice, but Vafiél hardly noticed.

_It has to be Serana, _he realised. He wasn't on speaking terms with any other vampires.

Quickly, Vafiél climbed the staircase and followed Isran to a room tucked away in a dusty corner, full of bones and torture devices. And there she was, with the Elder Scroll on her back.

"This _vampire_ showed up while you were away. I'm guessing it's the one you found in Dimhollow Crypt. Says it's got something really important to say to you, so let's hear it," said Isran, folding his arms and staring death at her.

"Serana," Vafiél said, nearing her and meeting her gaze. "What are you doing here?"

"Weren't expecting to see me again, huh?" Serana offered him a wry smile. "I'd rather not be here either, but I needed to talk to you. It's important, so please just listen, before your _friend_ here loses his patience. It's... Well, it's about me. And the Elder Scroll that was buried with me."

"Go on," Vafiél murmured.

"The reason I had it—and why I was down there—it all comes back to my father," she explained, folding her arms. "I'm guessing you figured this part out already, but my father's not exactly a good person. Even by vampire standards. He wasn't always like that, though."

"What happened?" Vafiél asked.

Serana frowned slightly. "There was... a turn. He stumbled onto this obscure prophecy and just kind of lost himself in it."

"Lost himself? What do you mean?"

"He just became absorbed. Obsessed. It was kind of sick, actually. The prophecy said that vampires would no longer need to fear the sun. For someone who fancied himself as vampire royalty, that's pretty seductive."

"I could only imagine," Vafiél agreed.

She nodded. "Anyway, my mother and I didn't feel like inviting a war with all of Tamriel, so we tried to stop him. That's why I was sealed away with the Scroll."

Vafiél thought on that for a few moments, letting it sink in. Finally, he said, "Thank you for coming to tell me this, Serana. You risked your life coming here."

"I did." Her smile was small. "But something about you makes me think I can trust you. I hope I'm not wrong."

"You can trust me," he assured her. "We just have to convince the others you're worth trusting, too."

"This is all very touching," Isran interjected, "but is there any reason I shouldn't kill this bloodsucking fiend right now? We've heard what it has to say."

"Put aside your hatred and look at the larger picture for once," Vafiél said, low and sharp.

"Put my hatred aside? Never. It's what keeps me strong," Isran argued.

"Strong, yet blind," Vafiél said icily. "We're going to need her help, whether you like it or not. This goes beyond individual resentment."

"Why, because of that story about the prophecy?" Isran said sardonically. "About some vampire trying to put the sun out? Do you actually believe any of that?"

_You speak of things you know nothing about, _Vafiél thought bitterly. "Yes. It's an old prophecy. If you don't trust Serana, you should at least trust me. I've been all over Skyrim looking for Gunmar and Sorine, mending relationships you broke for the sake of pride. I did it because enough innocent people have died already."

Isran exhaled gruffly. "Fine. It can stay for now, but if it so much as lays a finger on anyone here, I'll hold you responsible. Got it?"

Vafiél simmered in silence.

Irritated, Isran turned on Serana instead. "You hear me? Don't feel like a guest, because you're not. You're a resource. You're an asset. In the meantime, don't make me regret my sudden outburst of tolerance and generosity, because if you do, your friend here is going to pay for it."

"She isn't a beast to be spoken to like that," Vafiél snapped before Serana could reply. "And her name is Serana."

"You expect me to show it _respect_?" Isran demanded. "You watch your tongue, boy."

"Call me boy again, and you'll lose yours," Vafiél retorted. The room grew very cold.

"Listen," Serana said to Vafiél, meeting his gaze. "I have the Elder Scroll with me. Whatever it says, it will have something that can help us stop my father. But of course, neither of us can read it."

Vafiél sighed. "We'll need to find a Moth Priest," he muttered.

"Right, except they're half a continent away in Cyrodiil," Serana told him.

"Some Imperial scholar arrived in Skyrim a few days ago. I was staking out the road when I saw him pass by. Maybe that's your Moth Priest," said Isran, quietly.

"Do you know where he's staying now?" she asked.

"No, and I'm not going to waste men looking. Talk to some innkeepers or carriage drivers. You're on your own." With that, he stalked away.

Exhaustion swept Vafiél and he rubbed his eyes, sighing.

"Any idea how you're going to find a Moth Priest?" Serana asked, her tone softening now. "Skyrim's a pretty big place."

"I was hoping you'd have some idea," Vafiél admitted.

"Well, back before I... you know. The College of Winterhold was the first place I'd think to go for any kind of magical or historical thing. The wizards know about all kinds of things that people shouldn't know about," she answered. "I think I'll come with you. I've been wanting to get out and explore a bit."

That, at least, brought him a smile. "I'd be glad to have your company," he murmured. "But… I'm about to collapse. I should get some rest before doing anything else."

"You're going to sleep? It's dawn," said Serana, confused.

Vafiél laughed weakly. "You made me nocturnal. I'm stuck like this now."

She laughed with him, and he finally felt himself relax.

* * *

Serana woke to a soft tap on her shoulder and met Vafiél's gaze, shadowed as it was by the hood he wore.

"It's an hour before sundown," he told her quietly.

Serana sat up and rubbed her eyes, yawning. "So, have you got a plan to track down this Moth Priest?" she asked, swinging her legs over the edge of the cot and watching him as he sat on a chair in front of her.

"Yes," Vafiél answered, reluctantly, "but I don't like it."

"Uh oh. What is it?"

He sighed. "I saved a man's life while I was on Isran's errand. He has ties to the College of Winterhold."

Serana frowned. "That's perfect. Why—?"

"He lives in Windhelm."

"Oh." _Definitely not the best place for an elf, _she realised.

"I can't see any other way of finding the Moth Priest in time. By the time an innkeeper tells us where he is, he'll have left Skyrim," Vafiél murmured resignedly. "We have no choice, so I have to risk it."

"Are you sure? Maybe I could go in your stead," Serana offered.

Vafiél shook his head. "He won't trust you, but he'll recognise me… or my voice, I suppose."

She could hear the anxiety bleeding through his voice. Something about Windhelm had hurt Vafiél in the past, be it the city or its people; it seemed like going there was as dangerous for him as coming to Fort Dawnguard was for her.

"We'll be in and out in no time," Serana assured him, gathering her things and following him outside.

It was refreshing to be out in the wilds again. Whenever animals became hostile toward them, Vafiél would soothe them with a gentle Shout; he described it as a promise of peace, an exchange of respect. Serana wasn't sure she understood, but she appreciated his pacifism. She welcomed the change after being around her father for a few days.

Peaceful though he may have been, Vafiél was far from relaxed. The further north they travelled, the more tense he became, constantly alert and oddly skittish for someone so capable.

They made camp in a sheltered nook beside a verdant pond under the watchful eye of the mountains. Eager to pull him out of his brooding silence, Serana sat close to him and asked, "Have you been in Skyrim long?"

"My whole life," he answered. Now that he'd pushed his hood back, she could see his slightly disturbed expression. "I was born in Skyrim, but someday I'd like to visit the Summerset Isles."

_So he is an Altmer. Guess he's just pale. _"From what I've read, it's a beautiful place," Serana agreed.

He gave her a strange look. "Were you always a vampire?" Vafiél asked.

"That's… a long story."

"I'd like to hear it," he prompted her curiously.

Serana thought for a moment. "I guess... We kind of have to go way back. To the very beginning. Do you know where vampirism came from?"

"Yes. From what Molag Bal did to that girl, Lamae," he answered softly.

"Exactly." Admittedly, his knowledge surprised her. "She… was not a willing subject. But she was the first." Serana looked away. "Molag Bal is a powerful daedric lord, and his will is made reality. For those willing to subjugate themselves, he will still bestow the gift, but they must be powerful in their own right before earning his trust."

Understanding lined his expression. "I'm sorry that happened to you," Vafiél whispered, his tone saying more than his words ever could. "Do you… regret becoming a vampire?"

"Nobody's ever asked me that before," she admitted, frowning. "I... I don't know. I think... mostly I hate what it's done to my family."

Vafiél watched her with sad, pale eyes. "How has it affected your family?"

"Well, you've met most of us. My father's not exactly the most stable, and eventually he drove my mother crazy with him. And it all ended with me being locked underground for who knows how long. It's definitely been a bad thing, on the whole," Serana answered distantly, worrying at her sleeve and wondering how he'd managed to make her say these things.

A light, warm touch on her forearm made her meet Vafiél's gaze. "Are you alright?" he asked, quietly. The world was dawning, and the chilly twilight turned his gaze a soft blue.

"I… I'm fine. I just—I've never spoken about this to anyone. We should get some rest," she made herself say, breaking eye contact.

Vafiél nodded silently and moved away, sitting against the rocky wall to keep watch. She could see thoughts whirling behind his eyes like snowflakes in a blizzard.

* * *

They reached Windhelm by dawn the next day, and in the interest of saving time, Serana insisted they enter the city and find Ulfgir before they rested.

As they passed through the bridge that led into the old city, she thought Vafiél would lose his nerve and turn back, but he never did. He just looked ahead and said nothing, like he was marching right into Oblivion to certain death with quiet acceptance.

A few of the city's residents gave them looks as they looked for Ulfgir's house. Vafiél tensed every time. A man passed by them and drew breath to speak. _This is it, _Serana thought, alarmed. _I'll have to get Vafiél out of here. Maybe that gate—_

"Come by my stall in the Stone Quarter. No finer game or fish in Windhelm," the man said, and moved on.

She heard Vafiél let out the breath he'd been holding, even as she did the same. They hurried to Ulfgir's house and found him just outside, tanning leather.

"Ah! Good to see you, friend," said Ulfgir. "Come, have a seat. What can I do for you?"

"This may sound a bit outlandish," Vafiél said, "but I'm looking for a Moth Priest. Rumour has it there's one in Skyrim. I was hoping your associates might know where he is."

"Funny you should say that," Ulfgir remarked. "A friend of mine mentioned this not two days past. A Moth Priest, heading to Dragon Bridge. If you hurry you might find him."

Vafiél's sigh was one of relief. "Thank you, Ulfgir." He turned to Serana. "We should move quickly."

"Let's go," she agreed.

They hurried back down the street and had almost made it to the main gate when a Nord man in furs called out, "You there. Halt."

Vafiél stiffened and glanced over his shoulder.

"Yes. You." The old Nord approached him with heavy menace. "You're a stranger to Windhelm, aren't you?" He spoke loudly, definitely trying to draw attention. "Let me see your face."

"We were just leaving," Vafiél told the Nord.

"Are you deaf? I said, take off your hood," the man growled. The others in the area turned to see what the commotion was about.

When Vafiél didn't react, the Nord took hold of his cloak and ripped it off. The silver dragon brooch that secured it clattered to the stone, loud and discordant in the silence that followed.

"I know what you are," the man growled.

"You're making a mistake," Vafiél said, but it sounded weak, a shadow of his usual tone.

"_You're a Falmer!_" the man roared. "Looks like we missed one, eh boys? Look at him! He's a freak! Oh, we can't hurt the Dark Elves, no, but we _can _hurt this elf. What do you say? An eye for an eye. One Falmer for the thousands of Nords your kind have killed!"

Many in the crowd that had gathered were yelling agreement. The adrenaline and hatred were overwhelming, staining even the walls and the ground.

Vafiél looked at her. She'd never seen such grief and dread on anyone before. "Serana," he rasped, "you need to leave. Please. Go and find the Moth Priest. I'll never forgive myself if they hurt you too."

"No," she protested. "It's a lie. It's not true!"

"_Go, Serana!_" he insisted, wincing as the first few stones battered him.

She backed away, holding a hand over her mouth, and watched, waited, for the ordeal to be over. It seemed like it would never end. They stoned him without mercy. Even when he fell to one knee, head bowed and shaking, they did not relent. A scarce few shouted for it to stop, priests mostly. No one listened.

Serana could barely believe what was happening. She'd been so certain—she thought he even confirmed he was an Altmer when he spoke of the Summerset Isles—but he'd fooled her, just like he fooled everyone else… except that old man. At some point she thought she might have cried out, begging for the abuse to end. It didn't. Vafiél didn't fight back.

The accusing Nord stepped closer to the battered, bleeding Vafiél, and unsheathed his sword. He raised it high…

…and a gout of fire spread in an arc around Vafiél, staggering everyone away.

"Leave him, you sons of whores!" shouted a man, a Dunmer with flames writhing around his fingers. He stood to shield Vafiél. "You call yourselves honourable, and yet you stone a stranger in the streets without trial? How dare you!"

"Out of the way, grey-skin, or we'll stone you as well," growled a black-haired man.

"You'll do no such thing," said a Dunmer woman. A group of Dark Elves joined the first, all of them armed, be it steel or arcane. "This ends now."

Serana rushed forward as the first man helped Vafiél to his feet and steadied him when he swayed. The Dunmer looked at her sternly. "Get him out of here," he murmured. "Casimir will go with you."

"Thank you," Serana whispered. Vafiél looked drunk with pain and on the verge of collapse, but with Casimir's help, she managed to get him through the gate and across the bridge. They'd barely made it into the shelter of the trees before Vafiél collapsed, breaths shallow and rasping, barely conscious.

"Vafiél," Serana said urgently, crouching by his side. "We can't stop here. They'll find us."

"Follow me, my lady," said Casimir, scooping up Vafiél and hurrying away to somewhere more sheltered.

The Dunmer stopped in a dense copse of trees and set Vafiél down, performing a few restorative spells. Vafiél didn't seem to improve. He'd lost consciousness, and only the slightest rise and fall of his chest could be seen.

"Will he be okay?" Serana asked in a whisper.

"Only time will tell," Casimir answered solemnly. "I have done all I can. Now… Now, we pray."

And they prayed.


	4. Chapter 4: Of Dragons and Moths

**Chapter 4: Of Dragons and Moths**

**A/N: Welcome back! A few things of note here. 1) Auriel/Auri-El/Akatosh are the same being in my interpretation of the Elder Scrolls universe. 2) You may have noticed slight diversions from the in-game story; these are present to aid the flow of the novelisation and to provide a more 'real' feeling to the world. The most notable changes occur later in the story. 3) For those who are curious, _Od-Lah-Unslaad_ translates to _Snow-Magic-Eternal_. 4) I researched Dovahzul words and sentence structure to write this novelisation, but if you find errors, please let me know. Enjoy.**

* * *

He was falling in an endless azure sky. Wind lashed his body and hazy, undefined beings raced past him, some laughing, some roaring. Vafiél blinked to try and clear his vision and found a green dragon in front of him, diving to keep pace with him.

"Fly," it told him in Dovahzul.

"I cannot," Vafiél replied in kind, confused.

"Fool," the dragon rumbled, amused. "Spread your wings and let the wind take you. Here, we fly forever."

It was then that Vafiél realised he no longer resided in his mortal form. His soul spread its great membranous wings and floated on an updraft. The green dragon roared in triumph and flew with him.

"Our Father would speak with you, Dovahkiin," it said, and gestured with its snout toward the great golden light above. Vafiél thought it was the sun at first, until he drew closer and realised it was actually a large white-gold dragon seated in a bed of cloud.

Vafiél soared upward until he could stand before the grand being, humbled by its divine light. "Am I dead?" he asked.

The great dragon rumbled stony laughter deep in its chest. "Not quite, child," answered the being, watching him with kind, all-knowing eyes. "It has been some time since we spoke, Od-Lah-Unslaad."

And longer still since Vafiél had heard his Name of Names, the truth of his existence, the Words of his being. He shuddered as they reverberated within his soul. "It has," he agreed. "But if I am not dead, then why am I in your pantheon, Great One?"

The dragon hummed. He was hard to look at, what with the sunlight he exuded. "You have pushed your body to its limits once again, child, yet your purpose is unfulfilled. You know well the offer to which you have agreed."

Vafiél had not forgotten. It was long ago, but he remembered being in this very spot, agreeing to the terms.

"When you have exacted your destiny, only then will you have the choice of living out your afterlife in the astral plane, or remaining tethered to the mortal world for all time. This is the price for your actions, Od-Lah-Unslaad. Your very Name is a reminder, is it not?" asked the dragon.

"It is," Vafiél said softly.

"Then you should not linger here, my child," the dragon told him. Amused, he added, "I sense someone is very eager for your return. You must make haste."

_Serana, _Vafiél realised. The memories flooded his mind and filled him with panic. "You're right, Great One. I should not be here another moment."

"Do not hasten to return here, Od-Lah-Unslaad," said the dragon, as darkness engulfed Vafiél.

* * *

Consciousness pierced his mind like an arrow of ice and Vafiél shot awake, gasping for breath. Voices bounced around strangely in his mind until his awareness focused and he realised two people were talking about him, urging him to wake up, to calm down, to breathe deeply.

Vafiél sat up with great effort and coughed before he was able to breathe normally. His vision cleared and he met the crimson gaze of a Dunmer man in an ashen cloak, then glanced at Serana, who looked more emotional than he'd ever seen her.

"I'm not going to die," Vafiél rasped through a dry throat. "I'm fine."

"I thought we lost you there," said the man. "It's a good thing you pulled through." He cleaned his hands on his breeches matter-of-factly. "Well, I'd best be going, my lady. Azura knows what Dravin has gotten himself into now."

"Thank you for all your help, Casimir," Serana told him, relaxing a little.

"Please give Dravin and the others my regards. If you all hadn't intervened, things would be significantly more dire," Vafiél murmured.

"I'll pass on the message. You take care, now," said Casimir, leaving them.

Vafiél met Serana's gaze when he heard her breathing stutter slightly. "I—"

"Don't scare me like that again, okay?" Serana interrupted him, though her tone was gentle.

Vafiél's smile was weak. "I'm sorry, Serana," he said softly.

"It's true, isn't it?" Serana watched him, her expression difficult to decipher. "You're a Falmer. He wasn't lying."

"The name 'Falmer' carries negative connotations these days because of what the Dwemer did to my people," Vafiél told her, averting his gaze. "It's more polite to say Snow Elf. But… yes. It is true."

"Is that why you avoid the cities?" Serana whispered. "Do they all treat you like that?"

Vafiél sighed heavily. "A very long time ago, a terrible war happened between us and the Nords. It ended with the Snow Elves' defeat and a genocide of my race," he explained. "The Nords have never forgotten the atrocities of that war. Even though I wasn't even involved, they hold me accountable."

"But surely they did things that are just as bad, if not worse," Serana pointed out, frowning slightly. "Don't you have the same resentment?"

"Of course I do. I have… personal reasons to despise them," Vafiél answered, lowly.

"I don't see you going after every Nord you see and beating him to death."

Vafiél laughed, short and bitter, as they stood. "I suppose that is the difference between us, is it not?"

Serana exhaled tiredly and shook her head, taking his hand. Her touch was soft and cool. "Here," she whispered, pressing something metallic into his palm. They lingered like that for the space of a heartbeat, but Serana soon pulled away, clearing her throat. "Let's keep moving."

Vafiél smiled to himself when he realised it was his dragon brooch. He used it to secure the other hooded cloak he kept in their travel bag. "Why don't you stay here while I find somewhere we can rest?" he suggested. "You'll burn if we leave this shaded place, and it could take hours."

Serana looked of a mind to protest. She opened her mouth, but said nothing, and soon closed it again before asking, "Are you sure you'll manage? You nearly died, Vafiél."

"I'll be fine," he assured her lightly. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He'd barely taken a few steps before Serana caught his wrist. Vafiél stopped and met her gaze quizzically. "Is everything alright?"

"You'd better come back," Serana told him. "If I don't see you three hours from now, I'll come looking for you."

Vafiél offered her a soft smile and touched her shoulder. "I promise I'll come back soon," he murmured. With that, he raised his hood and set off into the sunlight for the first time in weeks.

It took him about an hour to find a shallow cave they could stay in, and around half that time to return to Serana in the shadowy glade. She was relieved to see him, and made use of a cloak and gloves to protect herself from the sun as he led her to the cave. Both of them were relieved to be inside; Vafiél had grown accustomed to the dark, and the midday sun was hard on his eyes.

"I'm so tired," Serana admitted. "Maybe we should just barricade the entrance and stay here a while to get our strength back."

The idea certainly was appealing. With some well-placed runes and proper fortifications…

"We should," Vafiél agreed. "It's a long way to Dragon Bridge, and I don't think it's wise to try a horse and carriage. Word spreads quickly; the Nords all over Skyrim will be on the lookout for me within a few days." He put their things down and turned to Serana. "Here's what we need to do."

* * *

With the entrance blocked by stones and boulders and runes guarding both sides of the barricade, their work was finished. The explosion of the runes would wake them if someone came near, while the runes themselves would quickly dispose of any potential threat. Now, Vafiél sat brushing out his hair, a torch on the rocky wall providing the only light to see by.

"What was it like, living in Skyrim before the war? Were you… Do you remember?" Serana had asked him, not moments earlier. He took some time to reflect before answering her.

"I do," he answered. "Everything was peaceful and prosperous. My race were the first of the Mer to inhabit Skyrim. None were poor, and the crime rate was almost non-existent; most of us spent our time in pursuit of arcane study and hobbies. It was… a time of arts and advancement, I suppose." Vafiél paused to ease a tangle out of his hair. "When the Atmorans arrived, most of my race were content to coexist, so long as we stayed out of each other's affairs. But… most is not all. A splinter group formed who thought themselves superior to the Atmorans, deserving of their secrets and their magical artefacts, and they slaughtered an entire city known as Saarthal." He sighed. "It was the beginning of the end, and came to be called the Night of Tears."

"And then the Atmorans fought back," Serana said, quiet and solemn.

"Yes. Ysgramor and his sons fled back to Atmora, and when they returned, they returned with an army." Vafiél laid the brush in his lap. "It could hardly be called a war. We had no need for militia before the Nords arrived—we hardly even had guards in our cities, since there was no need for their presence—and so they destroyed us with impunity. It didn't take long before most of my kind were either dead or forced into hiding, and the ones that did remain to oppose the Atmorans were pushed to Solstheim, the island just off the coast. From what I've heard, a man who called himself the Snow Prince led one final assault against the Nords. He was slain by a child."

"A child? How?" Serana asked, bewildered.

"It is said that the child, in intense grief, threw her dead mother's sword at the Snow Prince and killed him," Vafiél murmured. "After that loss, the Nords hunted us down and murdered us by the thousands. We were forced to seek refuge with the Dwemer, and… I'm sure you've seen what they did to my race. A sickening degradation, blind and animalistic… Like a cruel joke, compared to the grandeur of our former lives." The words were bitter to say.

"You survived, though," Serana pointed out. "How? Why aren't you…"

"…like the Betrayed?" he finished for her. She nodded. "My sister was a priestess of Auriel—you may know him as Akatosh—and she lived in an isolated valley deep in the northern mountains. I stayed there with her at the Chantry of Auriel for a time and we evaded both the Dwemer and the Nords. But there was one enemy we weren't hidden from." Vafiél took a shaky breath. "A raid by the Betrayed forced us away from the Chantry, and the Nords found us. After that, I took to hiding my identity."

"What about your sister?" Serana asked in a hesitant whisper.

Vafiél met her gaze. It seemed like his expression was enough of an answer.

"Vafiél… I'm sorry. Thank you for telling me this. I know it must be hard for you." Serana attempted a comforting smile. "It's over now. We have to stay in the moment."

"I know," Vafiél murmured, averting his gaze.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

"I will be. Sleep will help, I think," he said, hoping it was true.

When they were wrapped in their furs and all was quiet, Serana spoke. "Hey, Vafiél?"

"Yes?"

"Will you tell me how you got that scar on your eyebrow sometime?"

He laughed quietly through his nose. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Sleep well."

"You too."

* * *

And sleep she did, better than she had since Dimhollow. Serana thought _she'd _overslept when she saw that the torch had completely burnt itself out, down to the handle, but Vafiél was still sleeping when she woke. She brushed a strand of long white hair away from his face and watched him. If she'd known before what she knew now, she never would've allowed him to go to Windhelm. _Windhelm. The most racist city in Skyrim. _It made her appreciate his tenacity; he really did risk his life to find out more about this Moth Priest.

Serana was certain he hadn't told her everything about his past, but she thought she could connect the dots a little easier now. What he hadn't touched on was his Shouting ability. She resolved to ask him when they set out again.

His low, elegant voice brought her out of her reverie. "Do you do this often?" Vafiél asked, without opening his eyes.

Surprise made her jump. "W-What?"

"Watch me sleep." He cracked open one eye and met her gaze with a sleepy half-smile.

She had to laugh. "I try not to… It _is _a little creepy, isn't it? Sorry. I didn't realise you were awake."

"It's alright." Vafiél sat up and stretched with a sigh.

"How do you feel?" Serana asked.

"Just fine. Casimir did well," he answered. "How are you?"

"Hungry," she admitted, "but good otherwise."

Vafiél hummed thoughtfully. She watched him lace his boots before getting up to take down the barricade. "It's moonrise," he told her over his shoulder. They'd slept an entire day and more. "I'm sure we'll come across some bandits before long, and with any luck, we can take their horses. That would halve the travelling time."

"Good idea," she agreed. "Let's get going, then."

* * *

They hadn't travelled far on the southern road when the ground shook with a mighty roar. Serana called upon her necromancy and followed Vafiél's gaze skyward to find a dragon soaring down from its eyrie atop a mountain in the centre of the geyser field.

Vafiél tensed and Serana saw his eyes turn bright, glowing blue beneath his hood. The dragon drew near and hovered above them, seemingly curious.

"_Kos vod, dovah_," Vafiél said commandingly, his Voice making the air shake. He also said something else, but it was a longer sentence, and Serana didn't catch some of the Words in it. Whatever he said, the dragon didn't appear very cooperative.

"_Dir, lo-joor!_" it roared.

Vafiél glanced at Serana as the dragon took flight again, wheeling around and speeding toward them. "Look out!" he told her urgently. It was just enough warning for her to dodge a jet of flame from the dragon's maw.

Serana helped in the fight, but Vafiél soon bested the dragon with practiced ease. It died with a shrill cry and slumped to the ground.

Before she could ask what he'd said to the dragon, its corpse caught fire and began to burn away, revealing the bare bones beneath as the flesh and tissue disappeared. She watched as a strange energy flew toward Vafiél and surrounded him in unearthly light. It looked like he was… absorbing it?

"Woah. What's going on?" Serana asked as the light faded.

"I absorbed its soul," Vafiél answered, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say. She must have made a face, because he laughed and added, "Have you heard the term 'Dragonborn' before?"

"The dragon slayer?" Serana said, staring in surprise.

"In a way. Someone who is Dragonborn has the blood and soul of a dragon, but the body of a mortal," he explained. "As Dovahkiin, I can absorb the soul of a dead dragon and learn its knowledge. At this point, I'm fluent in the Dragon Tongue."

"You were talking to the dragon," she realised. "What did you say?"

"I tried to make peace with it, but it wasn't interested," said Vafiél, wryly. "The dov are prideful creatures. By displaying my Thu'um, I inadvertently challenged it; every time a dragon uses breath attacks, it is actually speaking. I suppose I'm at fault for inciting a verbal battle," he admitted.

"You become more and more interesting by the day," Serana joked. She thought she saw him grin, but he turned away before she could be sure, and she only heard his quiet laughter.

* * *

Vafiél turned out to be right about the bandits. They encountered a trio of them by a broken cart on the road, and Serana fed while Vafiél followed a game trail up to their camp. He returned with two horses, one a dappled grey and the other black, with splashes of white on its muzzle and hoofs.

"Which is which?" Serana asked.

"The grey has taken a liking to me," Vafiél answered.

"Oh, good. I like the black one." She went over to her new horse and gave it a pat on its flank. "Got any names?"

"I think I'll call this one Storm." The horse whickered at Vafiél in what looked like approval.

"I'll go with Midnight," Serana decided. "Cliché, I know, but it fits, don't you think?"

"It does." Vafiél went over to her. "I can help you up, if you want," he offered.

She laughed. "Thanks, but I think I'll manage."

"Alright." Vafiél went over to Storm and swung up into the saddle. His stallion was the bigger of the two.

Serana mounted up and followed them on Midnight. The mare was very responsive, moving into a trot at the lightest touch.

They rode side by side and made good time, passing between the mountains toward Whiterun by moon's high. They reached Rorikstead near dawn and spent the day resting by the river just beyond, sheltered by a small overhang of rock. That night, after sleeping in shifts, they passed through Robber's Gorge—the bandits were all sleeping—and found no further trouble, until they encountered an overturned wagon and corpses.

Along with the dead horse and slain Imperial guard, Serana noticed a vampire. She and Vafiél quickly dismounted to examine the scene.

"I found a note," Serana told him.

"What does it say?"

"It looks like our Moth Priest has been taken to a cave called Forebear's Holdout," she answered.

"We passed a cave not long ago," Vafiél said. "Could that be the one?"

"I think so." Serana showed him the note, which had a scribbled drawing of the cave's location relative to Dragon Bridge.

They tied their horses a short way from the cave, among some trees, and Serana let Vafiél lead the way into the cave. Judging by the fresh bloodstains near its entrance, it had to be the one.

* * *

After a short tunnel, they emerged onto a balcony overlooking a huge cavern. A river trickled across it, and just beyond stood what looked like an old unused fortress. Strange blue light emanated from the top floor of the fortress, almost like a forcefield. The fort itself was almost entirely open to the air, and decorated with gargoyles along its ramparts. In fact, the architecture reminded her of Castle Volkihar—not that she found the resemblance pleasant.

They crossed the roaring river and skirted the wall of the fortress until they passed under an archway into a courtyard. A couple of thralls and death hounds fought them, but Serana and Vafiél defeated them without much effort and ascended a spiralling staircase beyond the central fire pit.

They emerged into the open-air level of the fortress they'd seen from the balcony. The odd blue magic kept a man in white robes prisoner, and a vampire seemed to be trying to enthral.

"The more you fight me, the more you will suffer, mortal," the man said, almost sounding bored.

"I will resist you, monster. I must!" the Moth Priest argued. His voice strained and shook; they must have been at this for a while.

The vampire clicked his tongue. "How much longer can you keep this up, Moth Priest? Your mind was strong, but you're exhausted from the struggle."

"Must… resist…" the priest said to himself.

"Yes, I can feel your defences crumbling. You want it to end. You want to give in to me. Now, acknowledge me as your master!" the vampire declared triumphantly.

"Yes… master."

Vafiél gave her a dismayed look over his shoulder, which she mirrored. _We have to attack, _she mouthed, and he nodded, replying, _Follow me. _

They made quick work of the vampire as a team, and Serana picked up a strange stone inscribed with glowing blue lines. "Look at this."

Vafiél hummed in surprise. "Perhaps this will bring down the barrier. May I?" He extended a hand for the stone and she gave to him, watching him climb a short flight of stairs and slot it into a pedestal. The standing stones around the Moth Priest sank into the ground and the forcefield dissipated.

"Vafiél, watch out!" Serana called when she saw flames in the priest's hands.

"I serve my master's will. But my master is dead, and his enemies will pay!" the priest shouted, loosing a fireball at Vafiél. Serana attacked with ice and lightning, relieved when she saw Vafiél leap from the platform unharmed and strike at the enthralled priest with the pommel of his dagger.

"Don't kill him," Vafiél warned her.

"Easier said than done," Serana replied, trying to limit her attacks. In the end, it was a bash from Vafiél's dagger to the priest's temple that brought him to his senses.

"Wait, stop! I yield!" the priest cried. "That... That wasn't me you were fighting. I could see through my eyes, but I could not control my actions. Please, stay your hand. The vampire's hold on me is broken."

Vafiél neared him carefully. "Are you alright?" he asked, slowly.

"I'm quite alright, thanks to the both of you," the Moth Priest answered. "Dexion Evicus is my name. May I ask yours?"

"I am Vafiél, and this is Serana," Vafiél told him.

"Good to meet you. I'm a Moth Priest of the White Gold Tower." Dexion gave his surroundings a look of disgust. "These vampires claimed they had some purpose in store for me, but they wouldn't say what. Probably hoping to ransom me, the fools."

"Actually, they wanted for you for the same reason we do," Vafiél said.

"Do go on."

"I am from a faction called the Dawnguard. We have an Elder Scroll we need you to read."

Dexion's eyes widened. "You have an Elder Scroll? Remarkable! If my knowledge of history serves me, I recall that the Dawnguard was an ancient order of vampire hunters. I will be happy to assist you with your Elder Scroll. Just tell me where I need to go."

"You should head to Fort Dawnguard, in the Rift near Stendarr's Beacon," Vafiél told him.

"Very well. I'll hurry on my way and meet you there," Dexion agreed, and didn't waste another moment. He hastened away and out of the cave. Vafiél and Serana did much the same.

The world had begun to lighten in the east, grey in predawn, when they emerged. They mounted their horses and retraced their journey partway to the overhang near the river, and there stopped for the day.

Serana sat by Vafiél's side, and now that he wasn't wearing the hooded cloak, she could see his expression. She always counted herself lucky for it.

"What do you think the Scroll will say?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Vafiél admitted, meeting her gaze with those wise, pale eyes. "Whatever it says, I hope it gives us a clear direction. I feel as though we're meandering in an ocean of our own ignorance."

"I have to agree with you," Serana murmured. "Can you promise me something?"

He watched her curiously. "What is it?"

"Don't… Don't let this twist you like it did my father," Serana requested, quietly. "I'd be all alone again."

Vafiél glanced away for a moment, smiled softly, then met her gaze again. "That won't happen. I promise," he assured her. "I don't want to be alone either."

Her hand found his and Serana smiled to herself, watching the stars twinkle out of existence before the lightening horizon.


	5. Chapter 5 Part I: In The Shadow Of Death

**Chapter 5, Part I: In The Shadow of Death**

**A/N: Hello again! Since I've made quite a bit of progress in writing this story, I've decided to post the first part of Chapter 5 a week early as a treat for my readers. As always, reviews and constructive criticism are welcomed.**

* * *

With Dexion rescued from the Volkihar vampires, it was time yet again for another trip across Skyrim to return to Fort Dawnguard. Vafiél suggested they use the same route to return that they used to travel to Dragon Bridge, and Serana had agreed.

Now the moons waxed full above them as they journeyed under the shadow of High Hrothgar. Vafiél looked over at his travelling companion and smiled to himself. He'd all but forgotten what it was like to have a friend, someone to accompany him on his travels, someone to share things with.

He'd been wary of Serana's company at first, as anyone would. Trust did not come easily to him as of late. And yet, despite her own misgivings, her vampirism, and their turbulent pasts, Vafiél could admit he'd grown fond of her.

Serana glanced at him with a curious glint in her amber eyes. "Tell me about that scar," she requested.

Vafiél looked ahead, laughing quietly. "It's not as grand a story as you might think," he warned her.

"I want to hear it," she insisted.

"Alright, alright." Vafiél took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I didn't know I was Dovahkiin until the dragons started returning, but I had studied the Dragon Language for some time, and I knew a little. One day, I was travelling home to my tower, and a dragon attacked me. I managed to kill it and absorb its soul, but I didn't notice much of a difference." A small laugh escaped him. "Well… When I got home, I was practicing the Dragon Language, and accidentally Shouted, knocking over the tall wardrobe in my room. That's how I got the scar."

Serana squinted at him and bit her lip, trying to stifle her giggles.

"Don't laugh," he told her accusingly, but that only made her laugh more. Vafiél tilted his head skyward. He couldn't help but laugh with her.

"You have to admit," she breathed, "that is pretty funny."

"A little," he relented. An amusing story was a small price to pay for her mirth.

The world had begun to wake when they reached Fort Dawnguard. They found Dexion and Isran inside the main chamber, and Vafiél went over to the priest first.

"Ah, my rescuers!" Dexion remarked when he saw them arrive. "It's good to see you again."

"I'm glad you made it here safely, Dexion," Vafiél said amicably. "I hope my… companions have made you feel welcome."

Dexion smiled half-heartedly. "It's not exactly the hospitality I'm used to, but your commander Isran has seen to my needs well enough. And might I add, this is a remarkable fortress. I have colleagues back home that would love to study this place in detail."

"Ah. You'd best take notes for them," Vafiél suggested.

"Enough talk," Isran interrupted. "Are you ready to read the Elder Scroll?"

"Oh, most certainly!" Dexion agreed. "Let's find out what secrets the scroll can tell."

Serana relinquished her Elder Scroll to Dexion and Vafiél stood by her side while the Moth Priest began to read it.

"Now, if everyone will please be quiet, I must concentrate," Dexion announced. He took a deep breath and drew the contents of the Scroll out. "I… I see a vision before me, an image of a great bow. I know this weapon! It is Auriel's Bow!"

Vafiél stiffened. _Auriel's Bow? So it is that prophecy… _

"Now a voice whispers, saying, _Among the night's children, a dread lord will rise._ _In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light and the night and day will be as one._" Dexion frowned. "The voice fades and the words begin to shimmer and distort, but… Wait. There is more here."

He paused for a moment, then went on: "The secret of the bow's power is written elsewhere. I think there is more to the prophecy, recorded in other Scrolls. Yes, I see them now. One contains the ancient secrets of the dragons, and the other speaks of the potency of ancient blood. My… My vision darkens, and I see no more. To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two Scrolls," he finished. "I must rest now. The reading has made me weary." He handed the Scroll back to Serana.

"Come on, old man," said Isran, gruff but warm. "You should get some rest." He guided the priest away to the sleeping quarters.

"Vafiél," said Serana, quietly.

"Are you alright?" he asked, moving over to the wall with her.

"I think I know where we can start looking for one of the other Scrolls," she told him.

"You do? Where?" Vafiél watched her and made sure to keep their conversation soft.

Serana folded her arms. "We need to find my mother, Valerica. She'll definitely know where it is, and if we're lucky, she actually has it herself."

"Do you know where she is?" Vafiél asked.

"The last time I saw her, she said that she'd go somewhere safe… somewhere my father would never search," Serana said thoughtfully. "Other than that, she wouldn't tell me anything. But the way she said it… _someplace he'd never search_. It was cryptic, yet she called attention to it."

"She must have gone to great lengths to get away from your father," Vafiél murmured.

Serana hummed agreement. "I just can't imagine a single place my father would avoid looking. And he's had all this time, too. Do you have any ideas?"

Vafiél thought on it for some time. When people misplaced things, the lost item always turned out to be in their pocket the whole time. Perhaps…

"What if she found a place in Castle Volkihar?" Vafiél suggested.

Serana's eyes widened. "Wait… That almost makes sense! I used to help my mother tend a garden in the courtyard. All of the ingredients for our potions came from there. She used to say that my father couldn't stand the place. It was too… peaceful."

That seemed in character for Harkon, Vafiél decided. "How will we get inside without alerting the whole court? We certainly can't use the front door."

"True. But I know a way we can get to the courtyard without arousing suspicion," Serana told him with a mischievous smile. "There's an unused inlet on the northern side of the island that was used by the previous owners to bring supplies into the castle. An old escape tunnel exits there. I think that's our way in. What do you think?"

"Sounds like our only option." Vafiél glanced around the room to check they were still out earshot before adding, "I have something to tell you when we leave the fort. I don't trust anyone here with the information."

"Let's get going, then," Serana said without hesitation.

When they'd made it to one of the shallow caves they used for shelter, Vafiél set their things down and took off his cloak, turning to Serana. "I have the Elder Scroll about dragons," he said plainly.

"What? Where?" Serana asked immediately, staring in surprise.

"Myrwatch, my home. There's a portal that leads to the second floor, inaccessible otherwise. It's where I keep important things. After we've found Valerica, we'll need to stop there to retrieve the Scroll."

"I'm glad we won't be on an endless hunt for it. I was worried it would take months to track the other Scrolls down," Serana admitted. "Where was it?"

"Beneath a Dwemer ruin, in an underground city called Blackreach. A terrible place, one I hope I'll never have to visit again." Vafiél took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. "Should we barricade the entrance and rest a while?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Serana said with a smile. "I'll set up in here."

"Alright. I'll be back in a few minutes with some rocks and wood. Be careful. Just call out if you need me," he said softly.

"Don't be long."

They'd left the barricade materials in a nearby hollow, so it didn't take long for Vafiél to find the boulders and rocks. Just as he was preparing to bring them back, he heard a shrill cry and the sounds of a battle.

_Serana! _

He ran like a whirlwind back to the cave and found two Volkihar vampires engaged in a fight with Serana, who had been backed to the wall. Vafiél lined up the foes and unleashed a beam of lightning that turned them to ash. The moment her attackers fell, Serana slumped to the ground.

He rushed to her side. "Serana, what happened?" Vafiél asked, urgent, but trying to stay calm.

"She got me," Serana rasped, revealing a stab wound in her side.

"You're hurt," he whispered, soft with horror. "Don't worry. I can heal you."

"W-Wait! Restoration spells will hurt me," Serana warned him.

"I know," he assured her. "I'm not using restoration."

"I didn't think… you were into necromancy." She hissed in pain.

"Hush. Just let me help you." Vafiél gently placed a hand over wound and directed his energy into the spell he'd found at Dimhollow. Sure enough, the wound closed over with only a faint scar left behind. He met her gaze. "How do you feel?" Vafiél whispered.

"Better," Serana answered quietly. "Thank you."

Relieved, Vafiél moved away from her and quickly finished setting up the barricade. When it was done, he sat with her again, checking the injury hadn't reopened from his inexperience with the spell. It seemed fine. "Do you feel any light-headedness? Nausea?" he asked.

Serana shook her head. "All clear. A little tired and sore, but otherwise, fine."

"It seems like Harkon has caught wind of our plans," Vafiél said, quiet with foreboding. After a moment of thought, he asked, "Were you close with your mother?" Surely one of her parents had to be decent.

Serana met his gaze wistfully. "Before my father became obsessed with the prophecy, Mother and I spent a lot of time together. She was very fond of her alchemical garden in the courtyard. She taught me quite a bit about cultivating quality reagents," she recalled.

"So you got along?"

"Like the best of friends," Serana said with a smile. "I would never hesitate to share anything with her." The smile crumpled. "But then…"

"Everything changed," Vafiél murmured.

Serana nodded and looked down. "It was very sudden. It was almost like one day, we were a normal family, and then the next, I didn't know who they were. I'd try to visit my mother in the garden but she'd quickly shoo me away, saying she was much too busy."

"It sounds like she was up to something," Vafiél commented.

"Definitely," Serana agreed. "I'm hoping it's a clue that will tell us where she went." She paused. "What about you? What were your parents like?"

Vafiél took a breath, averting his gaze. "I never knew my mother. She died giving birth to my sister when I was only two. As for my father… I have only scraps of memories. He was called to war when I was very young and never came back. Eleana was taken in by the Chantry, and I… I just grew up alone."

"I know how that feels," Serana said softly. "I mean… I know it isn't the same thing, but I was a pretty lonely child, myself."

"I'm glad you're with me," Vafiél told her, quietly. He clasped his hands together in his lap as she rested her head on his arm.

"Me too," Serana whispered.

Serana stirred to unexpected warmth and blinked open her eyes. It took her a moment to realise they'd fallen asleep sitting against the wall, and she was leaning heavily on Vafiél. She straightened up a little and yawned.

"Sleep well?" Vafiél asked quietly.

"Mm. Sorry," she murmured with a guilty laugh. "You must be cold."

"I like the cold," he reminded her. She could hear the smile in his voice.

Serana smoothed down her hair and started putting her things away. "It'll be another long trip to the castle," she sighed. "Good thing we have Midnight and Storm."

"If we don't run into trouble on the way, it'll be a miracle," Vafiél said wryly. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of your father's underlings."

"So do I," she admitted. "I'm… a bit nervous to go back to the castle. Who knows what he'll do if he finds us?"

"I won't let him hurt you," Vafiél promised her.

She smiled at that. As they set off on the road, riding side by side, Serana said, "We'll be able to stop by your tower for the Scroll on the way back from the castle. Do you have any way of hiding it? I don't think a pair of travellers with two Elder Scrolls can go by unnoticed for long."

"I thought the same thing," Vafiél agreed. "It's dangerous enough with you carrying one." He paused to think, in that oddly endearing way he had. "I could hide it under my cloak, if I secure it properly."

"Better than nothing," Serana said with a shrug.

The snows danced around them, wild and frenetic, when they reached the jetty. They'd encountered more of Harkon's court on the way north. Most of them carried orders from Vingalmo and Orthjolf, the senior members of the Volkihar Clan, but as Vafiél and Serana neared the castle, the final duo of vampires they encountered carried orders signed by Harkon himself.

Vafiél picketed the horses on long ropes and promised to return soon. Though Serana didn't shiver with cold like a mortal would, Vafiél could tell she was uncomfortable, so he rowed quickly to the island.

"Left, around the side," she instructed him, taking the lead. Vafiél was content to follow her.

"The castle looks menacing from down here," he remarked quietly. Bonehawks drifted lazily overhead.

"It looked even bigger when I was a young," Serana agreed, soft with reminiscence.

A few skeletons guarded the escape route entrance, which appeared to be the remnants of a dock littered with the corpses of smashed ships.

Within, mould and other unpleasant things cloyed the air, and Vafiél had a feeling he wasn't going to enjoy their journey to the courtyard. To distract himself from his surroundings, he asked, "Did you spend much time down here?"

Serana glanced sideways at him with a small smile. "I like to explore. My parents almost never let me off the island, so yeah, I poked around down here a lot. It was a little… quieter, back then. Guess a little vampire girl was enough to scare off the rats."

Vafiél hummed to himself, amused. "I'd be scared of you, too," he quipped, to which she rolled her eyes, laughing through her nose.

The air began to reek of death as they journeyed into the bowels of the undercroft. They navigated various traps and security measures and tried to find the hidden levers that would open the way through—a result of Harkon's paranoia, as Serana explained—until they came to a room full of human bones and gore in piled heaps. It reeked so intensely, Vafiél had to resist the urge to gag.

He edged forward to find a way through but quickly jerked back when a trapdoor opened above and more waste fell in, splattering him with blood. He staggered back into the wall, disgusted.

"Hey, are you alright?" Serana asked, trying to catch a glimpse of his face.

Vafiél turned his head away from her. "I'll be fine. Let's… Let's just get out of here," he rasped.

She quickly led the way through and pushed the lever so they could advance forward. "This is it," Serana told him when they reached a door. "Right through here."

Relief engulfed him, and Vafiél followed her through the door, out into the courtyard.

"We made it, finally. Oh, no…" Serana looked around in dismay at the ruined courtyard. Almost all of the plants were dead, and someone had been on a rampage here, spreading destruction in their wake. "It's like we're the first to set foot here in centuries. What happened to this place?"

Saddened by the scene, Vafiél followed her to a ruined doorway. It looked like it had been crushed on purpose to keep anyone from passing through.

"This used to lead to the castle's great hall," Serana told him quietly. "Looks like my father had it sealed up. I used to walk through here after evening meals. It was… beautiful, once." Shaking her head, she went over to a clump of twisted foliage fenced off from the rest of the courtyard. Serana grazed a dead flower with her fingertips. "This used to be my mother's garden. It… Do you know how beautiful something can be when it's tended by a master for hundreds of years?"

"Of course I do," Vafiél reminded her, softly.

Serana met his gaze apologetically. "You understand. She would've hated to see it like this."

Vafiél glanced over at the courtyard's centrepiece, a strange sundial. He frowned. _Not a sundial, a moondial._ _How curious. _

Serana followed his gaze. "Something's wrong with the moondial," she commented, standing at his side with her hands on her hips. "Some of the crests are missing and the dial is askew. I didn't even know the crests could be removed. Maybe my mother's trying to tell us something."

"Why a moondial?" Vafiél asked.

"The previous owners of the castle had a sundial in the courtyard, and obviously that didn't appeal to my mother," Serana explained with a wry smile. "She persuaded an elven artisan to make some improvements. The plates should show the phases of the moons. It's like… a piece of art, I guess."

He looked around. The place was a wreck, but he could imagine it must have been lovely before. It gave him a sense of homesickness he hadn't expected. "What happened here?" he asked quietly.

"If I had to guess, I'd say the moment mother fled the castle, father went on a rampage. Knowing him, anything at all that reminded him of her was just destroyed," Serana murmured. "Maybe if he'd spent more time with us, he would have recognised the beauty for himself."

"It seems like he and Isran do have something in common," Vafiél remarked bitterly.

"What do you mean?"

"They are both hateful people." Vafiél sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Let's find the missing crests."

They proved easy to find, since they glowed in the moonlight. Once they'd been placed in their correct positions, the moondial spun around into position, and a series of steps revealed themselves, dropping into place in a spiral. A secret passageway, it seemed.

"Very clever, Mother, very clever," Serana said to herself. "I bet those tunnels run right under the courtyard and into the ruins of that old tower. Be careful. I've never been down there."

"Looks like we're on her trail now," Vafiél told her. "I hope we find Valerica soon."

The tunnels below were pleasantly free from the stench, though significantly more dusty. Vafiél lagged behind with a muted sneeze when they first entered.

"Keep up," Serana muttered, giggling at him.

"Sorry," Vafiél rasped.

The ruins were crumbling in places, littered with unused dining rooms and caved-in bedrooms. Vafiél imagined the castle would've been a place of nobility and majesty for its previous owners, whoever they'd been. He would've liked to see it.

"She must be hiding something important if she went to all these lengths to conceal it," Vafiél commented, after they'd cleared a room full of gargoyles.

"Oh, definitely. I can't help but wonder what we'll find," Serana agreed. She frowned as he crouched beside a gargoyle. "What are you up to?"

Vafiél showed her his journal. "I want to add them to my compendium," he explained. "Do you mind if I take a few minutes?"

"Be my guest. Can I help?"

He smiled. "Of course." Vafiél showed her how to take measurements, how to perform a necropsy, and how to identify the major organs. They spent much more time than he'd planned on his observations—an hour must have passed by the time they finished—but Serana was elated.

"I can see why you like doing this," she told him as they cleaned their hands. "How did you learn the process?"

"I studied with a physician for most of my younger life," Vafiél explained. "I had a knack for anatomical studies, so he took me in and taught me everything I know. His name was Aerindor. When he died, he gave me his laboratory and equipment as an inheritance. I took everything with me to the Chantry, but I had to leave most things there except what I could carry when I left."

Serana gave him a look of surprise. "Why didn't you ever go back?"

"I wanted to," Vafiél told her regretfully, "but there's no way to the Vale now. It's all been sealed off by the Betrayed or natural disasters, like the earthquake that destroyed Winterhold."

"Earthquake?" Serana frowned at the unfamiliar word.

"Ah. I forgot everyone blamed it on superstition," Vafiél sighed. "It wasn't the College's fault. Haven't you noticed the seismic activity that runs from Eastmarch to Winterhold? There's a reason for that pattern."

He went on to explain the shifting of Nirn's lower layers and how that created strange events like earthquakes. Serana didn't seem to believe him at first, but when he drew a diagram, she began to comprehend the foreign concepts.

"When this is all over," she said, "can you teach me more?"

His chest warmed. "It may be a long time before fate allows me that freedom," Vafiél murmured, "but I will. I promise."

Serana smiled and looked away. "This can't be a dead-end. There must be a way forward. Let's find it."

Vafiél came upon a false fireplace and skimmed his hands over every surface, looking for a button or lever. He knocked one of the candlesticks mounted to the wall. The fireplace sank away into the ground, revealing a passageway.

"This has to be it," Serana told him.

Through the door, they emerged into a large room. The shelves were stacked with alchemical ingredients. In an alcove to their right were bookshelves, and to their left, a balcony. What drew Vafiél's attention, though, was the strange floor design in the middle of the room. Rows of concentric circles, almost like an inactive portal.

"There has to be something that tells us where she's gone," Serana said, her voice echoing strangely on the walls. "My mother was meticulous about her research. If we can find her notes, there might be some hints in there."

"I'll look around," Vafiél offered. He made for the bookshelves and snooped around in search of a journal.

It didn't take long to find. He opened it and skimmed through. Valerica spoke about her deteriorating relationship with Harkon and her anxieties about the prophecy should it come to fruition. What he didn't understand were her mentions of something called the 'Soul Cairn,' and beings she called the 'Ideal Masters.' According to her notes, she managed to create a portal to the Soul Cairn, and even listed the ingredients.

"Serana," Vafiél said, "I've found her journal."

"Oh, good. Let's see what it says." Serana took it from him and frowned as she read through it.

"What is the Soul Cairn that she mentions?" he asked.

"I only know what she told me. She had a theory about soul gems, that the souls inside them don't just vanish when they're used… They end up in the Soul Cairn. It's home to very powerful beings called Ideal Masters. Necromancers send them souls and receive powers of their own in return. My mother spent a lot of time trying to contact them directly, to travel to the Soul Cairn itself. It seems like she made it there."

"If she did," Vafiél murmured, "we'll find her."

"The recipe to open the portal is here. We'll need a handful of soul gem shards, a cup of finely-ground bone meal, half a cup of purified void salts… Oh… Damn it…"

Vafiél watched her with curious concern. "What is it?"

"We're also going to need a sample of her blood, which if we could get, we wouldn't need to be doing this in the first place," Serana said resignedly.

Vafiél tilted his head. "You share her blood," he pointed out.

Serana smiled, brows raised. "Not bad. We'd better hope that's good enough. Anyway, let's find those ingredients and put them in the silver vessel on the balcony, first."

Valerica's laboratory contained a multitude of ingredients, so it took them a few minutes to track down the ones in the recipe. When all of them were in the silver vessel, Serana glanced at Vafiél with vague apprehension.

"The rest is up to me," she muttered. "Are you ready to go? I'm not entirely sure what this thing is going to do when I add my blood."

"Can I ask you something first?" Vafiél requested.

"Of course. What is it?"

"What will you do if we find your mother?" he asked, gently.

Serana looked away, appearing conflicted. "I've been asking myself the same thing since we came back to the castle. She was so sure of what we did to my father, I couldn't help but go along with her. I never thought of the cost."

Vafiél hummed shortly and thought for a moment. "Whatever happens, I'll be here," he murmured, hoping to comfort her a little. "We won't know until we find her."

"Yes… Yes. You're right. Thank you," she whispered. "Ready to go?"

Vafiél nodded.

"Alright. Here goes." Serana bit the back of her arm and let the blood drip into the vessel. It sizzled erratically and the portal glowed ethereal purple, just like the flames had in Dimhollow. The rings broke apart and assembled in front of the balcony as steps leading down into the writhing spectral void.

"By the blood of my ancestors... She actually did it... created a portal to the Soul Cairn. Incredible," Serana breathed. She met Vafiél's gaze. "I'm ready when you are."

Vafiél took a breath and started down the steps, only to find the air sucked out of his lungs and a sharp pain in his chest. He hurried back up to the balcony, knees weak and shaking.

"Vafiél," Serana said, concern tinging her voice. She held his arm and pushed his hood back. "Are you alright? That looked painful."

"It was," Vafiél rasped, pushing out the words with effort. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry. I should've expected this," she admitted, releasing her hold on him. "The Soul Cairn is... well, _hungry_, for lack of a better word. It's trying to take your life essence as payment."

"What do we do? Can I even enter?" he asked, concerned.

"There is a way, but I don't think you're going to like it," Serana said hesitantly. "Vampires aren't counted among the living. I could probably go through there without a problem."

Dismay flooded him. "Is that my only option?"

"Maybe we could just 'pay the toll' another way. It wants a soul, so we give it a soul. Yours."

His eyes widened. "Wouldn't that kill me?"

Serana smiled wryly. "My mother taught me a trick or two. I could partially soul trap you, and offer that gem to the Ideal Masters. It might be enough to satisfy them. It would make you a bit weaker when we travel through the Soul Cairn, but we might be able to fix that once we're inside. Maybe."  
His expression must have been dire, because she sighed and folded her arms. "I'm sorry. I wish I knew a better way, something that would be easier for you. Just know that... whatever path you choose, I won't think any less of you. Sometimes things just have to be done. I know that better than anybody."

Vafiél grimaced and looked away. Lose part of his soul temporarily, or become the creature he'd sworn to destroy. He chose the lesser evil.

Turning to Serana, he said, "Soul trap me."

She gave him a pitying look. "Are you sure? I know this is difficult for you. I hope you trust me. I'd never do anything that could hurt you."

"I trust you completely," Vafiél assured her, quietly.

Her smile was sad. "Thank you. I promise to try and make this as painless as possible. Hold still, okay?"

Vafiél braced himself and let his guard down so Serana could cast the spell on him. He felt a sharp tear in his chest and saw the soul gem in her hand glow brightly, as if the fraction of his essence was almost too much to contain. He gingerly touched his chest, acutely aware of the loss.

Serana held the soul gem out over the portal and it vanished inside as a stream of energy. "That's it," she told him. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," he muttered. "Let's go." He led the way down the steps and through the portal, feeling quite like he was walking into Oblivion.


	6. Chapter 5 Part II: Blood and Water

**Chapter 5, Part II: Blood and Water**

**A/N: Hi again! Hope you enjoy the second part of Chapter 5. Reviews and discussion are always welcome.**

* * *

The Soul Cairn loomed before them awash in unearthly purple. The architecture was primitive and wrought in black stone, the flora and foliage were all dead, and a menacing black vortex loomed in the sky, a void of strange proportions.

"Look at this place," Serana mumbled, drawing closer to Vafiél. "I can't imagine choosing to come here. My mother must have been terrified."

Vafiél already looked drained. "Let's keep moving," he said quietly. "Stay close."

"You too." Together, they made their way down the floating steps and down onto the path.

* * *

Lost souls mourned for their former lives. Some weren't even aware of their surroundings. For the most part, they tried not to interact with any. The terrible smell pervading the air made them hurry. Serana and Vafiél hurried forward through a gap in the wall ahead and started climbing a large hill. Some kind of fortress loomed at its apex, and that seemed like their best bet at finding Valerica, so that was where they went.

A forcefield prevented them from entering the shelter of the fortress, but Serana recognised Valerica instantly. She stiffened and her hands curled into fists.

"Mother? Mother!" she called.

Valerica neared the barrier, eyes wide. "Maker… It can't be. Serana?" She didn't sound as warm as Serana expected.

"Is it really you? I can't believe it!" Serana breathed. "How do we get inside? We have to talk." She touched the barrier but couldn't penetrate it.

"Serana, what are you doing here?" Valerica demanded sharply. "Where's your father?"

"He doesn't know we're here. I don't have time to explain." Serana exhaled with frustration.

"I must have failed," Valerica said with cold dread. "Harkon's found a way to decipher the prophecy, hasn't he?"

Serana huffed. "No, you've got it all wrong," she told her mother desperately. "We're here to complete the prophecy our way, not his."

"Wait a moment…" Valerica seemed to notice Vafiél then. Her face turned sour with fury and she stared at Serana. "You've brought a stranger here? Have you lost your mind?"

Alarm touched her. "No, you don't—"

"You." Valerica glared at him. "Come forward. I would speak with you."

Vafiél took a breath and neared the barrier, meeting her gaze calmly.

"So, how has it come to pass that a vampire hunter is in the company of my daughter? It pains me to think you'd travel with Serana under the guise of her protector in an effort to hunt me down," Valerica snapped.

"You're wrong. This is no ruse," Vafiél told her, keeping a level tone, but offering no warmth. "I want to keep her safe."

Valerica scoffed at him. "Coming from one who murders vampires, I find it hard to believe your intentions are noble. Serana has sacrificed everything to prevent Harkon from completing the prophecy."

"That's why we need the Elder Scroll," Vafiél told her.

"You think I'd have the audacity to place my own daughter in that tomb for the protection of her Elder Scroll alone?" Valerica folded her arms sternly. "The Scrolls are merely a means to an end. The key to the Tyranny of the Sun is Serana herself."

Vafiél frowned. "What do you mean?"

Valerica pursed her lips. "When I fled Castle Volkihar, I fled with two Elder Scrolls. The Scroll I presume you found with Serana speaks of Auriel and his arcane weapon, Auriel's Bow. The second scroll declares, _The Blood of Coldharbour's Daughter will blind the eye of the Dragon_."

Vafiél looked like he'd been slapped. "But… That means… Harkon needs Serana's blood," Vafiél whispered, horrified.

"Now you're beginning to see why I wanted to protect Serana, and why I've kept the other Elder Scroll as far from her as possible," Valerica told him coldly.

"Would Harkon kill his own daughter?" Vafiél asked. It sounded like he didn't want to believe it, but Serana's heart sank. She knew the truth deep down.

"If Harkon obtained Auriel's Bow and Serana's blood was used to taint the weapon, the Tyranny of the Sun would be complete. In his eyes, she'd be dying for the good of all vampires."

Vafiél's jaw tightened. "I would never allow that to happen," he said, quiet and fierce. If it was possible for Serana to be warm, she was then.

"And how exactly do you plan on completing the prophecy without the death of my daughter?" Valerica asked sardonically.

"We'll have to kill Harkon," he told her.

"If you believe that, then you're a bigger fool than I originally suspected. Don't you think I weighed that option before I enacted my plans?"

Vafiél took a breath and turned to Serana. "What do you make of this?"

Valerica interrupted before Serana could answer. "You care nothing for Serana or our plight," she snapped. "You see the Tyranny of the Sun as your chance at deification, and like Harkon, you won't hesitate to destroy anything that stands in your path."

Serana interrupted whatever retort he may have said, tired of Valerica's insults. "Mother, enough!" she said, her voice a whip.

Valerica turned on her. "This stranger aligns himself with those that would hunt you down and slay you like an animal, yet I should entrust you to him?"

Serana eyed her mother with outrage. "This _stranger _has done more for me in the brief time I've known him than you've done in centuries!" she exclaimed.

"How dare you!" Valerica snarled. "I gave up everything I cared about to protect you from that _fanatic_ you call a father!"

"Yes, he's a fanatic... he's changed. But he's still my father," Serana said in frustration, torn two ways. "Why can't you understand how that makes me feel?"

"Oh, Serana. If you'd only open your eyes. The moment your father discovers your role in the prophecy, that he needs your blood, you'd be in terrible danger," Valerica told her harshly.

Centuries of bitterness erupted from her. "So to protect me, you decided to shut me away from everything I cared about? You never asked me if hiding me in that tomb was the best course of action, you just expected me to follow you blindly!" Serana shot back. "Both of you were obsessed with your own paths. Your motivations might have been different, but in the end, I'm still just a pawn to you, too."  
Angst twisted her expression and she looked away. "I want us to be a family again, but… I don't know if we can ever have that. Maybe we don't deserve that kind of happiness. Maybe it isn't for us. But we have to stop him. Before he goes too far. And to do that, we need the Elder Scroll." Serana met Valerica's gaze again, eyes glistening. "Please, Mother."

Valerica's face softened. "I'm sorry, Serana. I didn't know... I didn't see. I've allowed my hatred of your father to estrange us for too long. Forgive me. If you want the Elder Scroll, it's yours," she murmured, defeatedly. She turned to Vafiél with a sigh. "I still can't decide if your words are truthful, but for Serana's sake, I'll assist you any way that I can."

"Do you have the Elder Scroll with you?" he asked, relieved.

"Yes. I've kept it safely secured here ever since I was imprisoned. Fortunately, you're in a position to breach the barrier that surrounds these ruins. You need to locate the tallest of the rocky spires that surround these ruins. At their bases, the barrier's energy is being drawn from unfortunate souls that have been exiled here. Destroy the Keepers that are tending them, and it should bring the barrier down," Valerica instructed them.

"Very well. We'll return soon," said Vafiél. Serana was glad. She didn't trust herself to talk.

"One more word of warning. There's a dragon that calls itself Durnehviir roaming the Cairn. Be wary of him. The Ideal Masters have charged him with overseeing the Keepers, and will undoubtedly intervene if you're perceived as a threat. Be careful, and keep my daughter safe."

"I will," Vafiél said, heavy with promise. Serana was drained after her tirade at her mother, but she followed him without complaint. He gently placed a hand at her back as they descended the stairs, warm and reassuring. She gave him a grateful smile in return.

When they were out of earshot, she murmured, "I'm glad you're here. I don't think I could be doing this alone."

Vafiél met her gaze. "How are you feeling after talking to your mother?" he asked gently.

"Relieved, I think," she admitted. "All those things had been building for a while. You have no idea how long I wanted to say that to her."

"It helps to let it out," Vafiél murmured. "Why did you agree to her plan?"

Serana sighed and shook her head. "Look, I loved my father, but when he found that prophecy, that became his life. Everything else, even me and my mother... We just became clutter. I was close with my mother, but she just kept feeding me her opinions of him, and eventually I started believing them," Serana told him heavily.

"And you were caught in the middle."

"I was. Honestly, it took me up until now to figure out that my mother was really just as bad as he was," Serana admitted. "He was obsessed with power. She was obsessed with seeing him fail. It was just so... toxic. Maybe I could have seen this coming. We could all be better off now."

"It isn't your fault, Serana. You shouldn't blame yourself," Vafiél soothed her.

She bit her lip. "I know that in my head, but I just can't help feeling bad about… the way things are. If… If I hadn't listened… we might—might have had a chance." Her throat tightened and she looked away.

"Oh, Serana." Vafiél drew his arms around her and Serana acquiesced, leaning into him and placing her hands on his chest. For a few moments, neither of them spoke; she knew he was exhausted and so was she, but their quest was far from over. Finally, Serana gently pulled away and cleared her throat. "Thank you," she rasped. "Let's, uh… Let's keep moving."

"I'm ready when you are," he said quietly.

* * *

Despite their fatigue, they managed to fell two of the Keepers without much difficulty. It was the third that proved a challenge.

The Keeper raised its menacing battleaxe and swung it down hard. Serana tried to dodge away, but she wasn't quick enough. The blade whistled down. She closed her eyes and tensed.

With a thunderous Shout, Vafiél sent the Keeper hurtling at breakneck speed into the wall where it was reduced to a black splatter. Serana released the breath she'd been holding and looked over at him gratefully.

"Are you alright?" he asked, approaching her. He had a cut on his hand.

"I am, thanks to you," she said, shaking off the shock. "The barrier should be down, now. Let's head back."

As they walked, Serana remembered something. "What does Durnehviir mean?" she asked.

"Curse-Never-Dying," Vafiél answered. "He's probably being held here against his will, trapped like all the other souls." She could hear pity in his voice.

When they returned to her mother, Valerica looked surprised to see them. "You destroyed the Keepers. I'm impressed."

Vafiél didn't seem to care for praise. "Are you able to give us the Scroll now?" he asked, straining to be polite.

"Yes. Please, follow me," Valerica said, leading them through the great doors out into the ruin's courtyard.

They'd barely taken a few steps when a great roar shook the air above. Vafiél shot forward without hesitation to take on the cursed dragon. Serana made to follow him, but Valerica touched her shoulder, making her hesitate.

"You think I didn't hear that Shouting earlier? He's the dragon slayer. Let him kill Durnehviir," Valerica muttered.

"He's my friend," Serana argued. "I'm not going to abandon him now. Not after everything we've been through." She didn't linger to hear her mother's response.

Her hesitation cost them. Vafiél was bleeding from a gash on his shoulder when she reached him. He glanced at her for a moment, then looked away to focus.

"Thought you'd left me to fight him alone," Vafiél remarked. "Warn me next time. I'm frail enough as is."

"Sorry," Serana said quickly, guilt burdening her.

Durnehviir rapidly became frustrated when he realised he was losing the battle, but even then, it wasn't long before one of Vafiél's ice spears felled him. The dragon didn't burn away like the ones on the surface did. He disappeared in spectral purple light.

Only then did Valerica join them. "Forgive my astonishment, but I never thought I'd witness the death of that dragon," she told Vafiél.

"He isn't dead," Vafiél said plainly. "It's in his Name. He'll be back."

"Ah. I thought as much." Valerica turned away from him, and Serana could tell things would remain tense between them for a while. "I will lead you to the Elder Scroll."

The Scroll lay in a sheltered nook in the ruins, protected by a locked chest. Valerica handed it over to Vafiél with a cool expression. "Now that you've retrieved the Scroll, you should be on your way," she told them.

"We'll return for you when Harkon is dead," Vafiél said, quiet, yet subtly confident.

"I appreciate your concern for me, but Serana is all that I care about. You must keep her safe at all costs," Valerica told him.

"I understand that." The way he said it implied a meaning Serana wasn't sure she comprehended in the moment.

"Goodbye, Mother," Serana murmured. Vafiél helped her belt the Scroll to her back under her cloak, as he did each evening when they set off to travel, but it made Valerica fold her arms with motherly disapproval.

"Off with you. Be careful," Valerica said with acute despair, turning away.

The moment they exited the Boneyard, Durnehviir materialised before them, perched on a slanting arch.

"Stay your weapons," rumbled the great dragon, rustling its decaying wings. "I would speak with you, Qahnaarin."

Surprised, Vafiél took a few steps forward and tilted his head to meet the dragon's gaze. "Let us converse in our shared tongue, noble dragon," Vafiél said in Dovahzul. This seemed to please Durnehviir.

"Indeed. It has been long since I had the pleasure of speech with my kin." Durnehviir eyed him with one glowing eye. "My claws have torn the flesh of innumerable foes, but I have never once been felled on the field of battle. Therefore, I see it only fitting to name you Vanquisher in honour of your prowess."

"You were a worthy opponent," Vafiél told him. Dragons were nothing if not vain.

"Ah… You do me great honour," said Durnehviir. "I wish to respectfully ask a favour of you, Vanquisher."

"Yes?"

"For countless years I've roamed the Soul Cairn, in unintended service to the Ideal Masters. Before this, I roamed the skies above Tamriel. I desire to return there. However, time has taken its toll upon me. I share a bond with this dreaded place. If I ventured far from the Soul Cairn, my strength would begin to wane until I was no more," the dragon lamented. "If you would, call my name from Tamriel, that I might enjoy the sunlight for a brief time."

"It would be my honour," Vafiél agreed.

Satisfied, Durnehviir took to the air, soaring away over their heads.

"Another dragon conversation," Serana murmured, though her usual mirth was dampened; Vafiél assumed she longed for her mother to return to the surface. While they walked, he explained what had transpired between him and Durnehviir. It provided a distraction from the desolation around them.

Vafiél turned to her after a few silent minutes and rasped her name to get her attention.

"Are you alright?" Serana asked quickly.

"Do you mind if we find my soul gem before leaving?" he requested.

"Of course. It shouldn't be far from here." She inspected the cut on his shoulder. "You should heal this before it festers," Serana told him, frowning slightly.

"I barely have the strength to make it out of here. It'll have to wait." Vafiél touched her arm affectionately to soften the blow of his words before moving away down the path.

The moment Vafiél picked up his soul gem, blue-white light burst forth and flowed into him, shattering the gem. Restoring his life essence seemed enough to heal his minor injuries.

"Let's leave this wretched place," Vafiél muttered.

"Right behind you."

* * *

They emerged once more into Valerica's study. The portal remained open, though Vafiél couldn't imagine ever wanting to return to the Soul Cairn—save retrieving Valerica herself. He knew it would take time for Serana's mother to trust him, but as far as Vafiél was concerned, time was the only thing he wasn't short on.

Serana lingered at the balcony, glancing back over her shoulder with quiet longing. When she didn't shadow his steps Vafiél doubled back and tried to meet her gaze. "Serana?" he said, softly. "Are you alright?"

"I wish she could come back with us," Serana murmured.

"I know this is hard for you, but…" Vafiél lightly tilted her head up. "We'll come back for her. I promise. Until then, perhaps you can take comfort in knowing she only ever had good intentions at heart, even if her methods were—" he paused to search for the word— "harsh."

Serana took a deep breath. "You're right. Thank you." She averted her gaze. "Let's get out of here and rest."

"The sooner the better," he agreed, and let her lead the way back through the catacombs.

His arms burned from rowing and accumulated fatigue by the time they reached the mainland again. Despite that, Vafiél pushed through, determined to keep his oaths; now was not the time to falter, and they were still perilously close to Castle Volkihar. Rest would have to wait until they put more distance between them and Harkon.

It was almost dawn when they dismounted near Clearpine Pond, a short distance from Dragon Bridge. There, they used one of the sheltered hollows they'd found on their travels so far, and after securing the horses, settled in to rest.

Serana did little more than toss her sleeping equipment to the ground and collapse onto it, too tired to bother setting anything up and falling asleep almost instantly. Exhausted though he was, Vafiél shook his head with a quiet laugh and sat at her side. He carefully unbuckled the Elder Scroll from her back and set it down, then gently removed her hooded cloak and laid it beside her. Finally, he took her blanket of furs and draped it over her, lightly brushing hair away from her face. "Sleep well," Vafiél whispered.

"You too," Serana mumbled.

He blinked in surprise, feeling the tips of his ears turn warm. She wasn't asleep after all. Vafiél moved away and lay down to rest, but found himself staring at the ceiling for a long while before he felt calm enough to sleep. He could've sworn Serana was grinning.


	7. Chapter 6: Warmth

**Chapter 6: Warmth**

**A/N: Hello again! I hope you enjoy the direction I'm taking with this story. Deviations from the DLC's storyline begin most notably in this chapter, but the end result is the same. Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome.**

* * *

Myrwatch stood silhouetted by Masser and Secunda, who floated high in the star-flecked night. Storm and Midnight had cantered happily from Clearpine Pond to Vafiél's home; a full day of rest seemed to make them eager for travel. Serana had raced Vafiél along the last stretch. His breathless laughter when he realised she'd won the race made her wonder if losing might have been more fun, just to see a triumphant grin on his ever-stoic face.

With the horses picketed in the grass, Vafiél led Serana inside and helped her put their things down, including Valerica's Elder Scroll. "I'll go and get the other Scroll," he told her, leaving his cloak over a table and smoothing his hair back.

"I'll come with you. I want to see this treasure horde of yours," Serana replied, eager and inquisitive. She could only imagine the kinds of things he might have kept over the years.

Vafiél shrugged. "Suit yourself." He went over to a blind archway in the far wall, moved aside a small round table, and held a hand aloft. It began to glow with bright magic, almost like sunlight. The archway shimmered and distorted, showing a blurred image of a room similar to the one they were in.

"I've never seen anything like that," Serana remarked. "It's safe, right?"

"Of course." Vafiél went through it, then returned to her. "Perfectly safe."

Serana moved through the portal, feeling oddly warm, and looked around the new area. Its layout was much the same as the level below, but with an emphasis on displaying things: a blue elven bow and its matching quiver; sapphire robes embroidered with silver-white thread, glistening in the light; an elegant pitcher on its own stand; a fine painting depicting two Snow Elves, one male and one female, the woman a pale beauty holding an elven longbow in one hand and a small sun statuette in the other.

Serana was drawn to the painting instantly. It took her a moment, but she recognised Vafiél—albeit a younger, happier, more handsome version of him—and the woman had to be Eleana. Her smile pierced through the artwork like a silver arrow. The siblings looked quite alike.

"Elves live long lives, but our beauty wanes with the centuries," Vafiél said quietly. "Or… it does for most of us." He presented the Elder Scroll of the dragons to her and Serana looked at him.

The major difference she noticed was how tired he seemed now. He hadn't changed much otherwise, she reflected, and it was also likely that a bath and nicer clothes would provide a more accurate comparison.

Serana glanced back at the painting and frowned. She'd overlooked one crucial detail. "Is that… Auriel's Bow?"

"Yes, it is," Vafiél answered. He didn't give the painting so much as a sideways glance. "It belonged to her, for a time."

"She must have been quite the priestess," Serana commented, trying to keep her tone soft.

"It was always her calling." Vafiél headed for the portal. "Meet me downstairs when you're done looking around." With that, he was gone.

Serana had a strange feeling it was more than mourning that drove him away. Surely, even if he grieved Eleana, he would be able to remember her with warmth. Instead, it was almost like he was… ashamed, unworthy of seeing even a painting.

Instinct made her go after him before she'd so much as looked at anything else.

She found him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his palm, quivering and crying. She'd never seen him cry.

"Vafiél? Hey, talk to me. What's wrong?" Serana asked urgently, sitting beside him. He gave no response. "Vafiél." She touched his forearm and he tensed, glancing at her for a moment. His despair cut through her with intense precision.

But the moment passed and he turned his head away from her, curling in on himself. "I want to help you," Serana mumbled, shuffling closer and brushing tears away from his jaw.

Vafiél rubbed his eyes with unsteady hands. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't h-have to… to deal with this. It's my burden," he rasped.

"You can tell me," Serana whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. "Maybe you'll feel better if you do."

He sniffed and glanced at her with longing, but the pain overshadowed it. "I can't right now," Vafiél croaked. "It hurts too much."

"Then we'll stay here a while until it hurts less," she murmured, drawing him closer. To her relief, he lightly draped his arms around her in return and rested his head on her shoulder, slowly but surely relaxing and calming down.

Finally, after several long minutes, Vafiél straightened up and met her gaze.

"How do you feel?" Serana asked, wiping away his tears.

"Better," he admitted, glancing away and laughing raspily. "Thank you." Vafiél met her gaze and took a shaky breath. He hadn't quite let her go yet; his touch was warm through her tunic.

The moment stretched long like a bowstring, becoming more taut with every passing second the longer she looked at him. Something in her twisted. Then Vafiél closed his eyes and the tension snapped; Serana would've killed to know what he was thinking. Strangely, all he did was lean forward and lightly touch his forehead to hers, soft and affectionate. Whether it was a social custom among Snow Elves or simply an act of gratitude, she didn't know. Regardless, it was… nice.

Vafiél soon pulled away and gave her space. Serana watched him with surreptitious curiosity as he stood up and went over to a moderately deep circular depression in the floor in front of the far wall. In alcoves surrounding it sat small bottles and jars. He did something to the hollow and it began to fill with water.

"You're welcome to take one of the beds on the other side," Vafiél told her over his shoulder.

"Is that a bath? I didn't even notice," said Serana, approaching him.

He laughed quietly. "They aren't common in Skyrim, but you'll find most elven houses have them."

"Is it magic?" She couldn't seem to figure out where the water came from.

"Yes, of course." Vafiél gave her a look she couldn't quite place, not quite a smirk, but definitely amused. "Typically, I bathe in private," he said, eyes glinting.

Serana backed away, laughing. "I'm going," she assured him, and hurried away to the other side of the room. Still, curiosity got the better of her and she glanced back as she was rounding the wall for a half-second and caught the briefest glimpse of his back, marked with what looked like whip-scars bending around his waist.

She ducked out and sat by the fire, though she didn't have to wait long. Vafiél took the seat beside her, accompanied by the scents of precious woods and something vaguely floral. Jasmine, perhaps. He looked a great deal more like the person in the painting upstairs; his hair gleamed in the firelight, and she could see the nobility of his heritage.

"My turn?" Serana asked with a smile.

"Oh! I should have offered. Forgive me," Vafiél apologised, rising with her. "I'll do the spell for you." She followed him to his room and he filled the hollow with warm water, then quickly explained the contents of the jars—balms for her hair, a rich-smelling scrub, and other various items she didn't dare to use. He left quickly without waiting to be dismissed.

It had been so long since she'd had the opportunity for a warm bath. True, there weren't any handmaidens here to help her bathe and wash her clothes, but Serana didn't mind. The water never cooled, and so she stayed there until her skin wrinkled and she was thoroughly clean.

Around an hour passed before she emerged from the water and wrapped herself in the robe Vafiél had left for her. She found him with a few books by the fire.

"You're adding the gargoyles to the textbook," Serana realised, smiling eagerly and sitting beside him.

Vafiél mirrored her expression. "It's not quite as much information as I'd like," he told her, "but it's a starting point. I need to make more observations to find proper averages."

For a while they sat in comfortable silence. Serana watched him sketch until tiredness swept her and Vafiél put the work aside. They got up by unspoken agreement, though Serana felt strange saying goodnight and leaving him on the other side of the room. They'd spent weeks having the other at arm's reach. Now, as she lay down under the furs in a soft, comfortable bed, the quiet loneliness snuck up on her.

Serana crept to the other side and found Vafiél awake as well, staring at the ceiling.

"Strange, isn't it?" he whispered, understanding her without a word of explanation.

"Do you mind?" Serana asked, barely audible.

"Of course not."

She settled in on the other side of the bed with a respectable distance between them and sleep took her almost instantly.

* * *

The light of sunset turned everything rose-golden when Vafiél stirred. He blinked open his eyes to find Serana sleeping peacefully, the furs pulled up to her chin. He resisted the urge to stroke her hair in fear it would wake her and stayed where he was until she woke.

"Sleep well?" Vafiél asked as she stretched and yawned before snuggling in again. He propped himself up on his elbow.

"Absolutely," Serana confirmed. But her eyes were glowing hungrily.

"There's a mine just east of here, infested by bandits," he murmured. "You'll be able to feed there."

She smiled, soft with gratitude. "Thank you. Will you be okay here for an hour?"

"Of course. I'll wait here for you," Vafiél promised her. "Just don't be long, or I'll start to worry." Against his better judgement he gingerly tucked some hair behind her ear.

Serana laughed through her nose and touched his hand, forcing him to linger over her cheek. "I'm perfectly capable."

A grin escaped him. "And if a dragon attacks? Whatever will you do without me?"

"Don't give me that smug look," she chided him, laughing again and playfully pushing his shoulder. He laughed with her as they sat up, and every time they met each other's gaze they'd laugh more.

"Stop making me laugh!" Serana giggled, shoving him down on his back again.

"I'm not," he protested. "You just have no self-control." Vafiél caught her hands to stop her fake attacks and laced their fingers together, gazing up at her. Their laughter faded. Visceral heat warmed his blood and caught him by surprise, stirring a complexity of emotion he'd almost forgotten existed. Vafiél carefully released her hands and she let him sit up, a grey blush tinting her face.

"I should… go," Serana said awkwardly, not quite looking at him.

"Be safe," he responded, self-consciously smoothing his hair back. She left without another word.

Vafiél stared at the wall, still uncomfortably warm. He told himself it would pass. It had been centuries since he'd been in a woman's company for more than a few minutes, and even elves weren't immune to flights of fancy and insensible attraction. Serana was a friend. He was above petty desires; they were the nature of living things and like everything else, came and went. It would pass.

Or so he hoped.

He cleaned and worked and practiced spells to clear his head. He organised every bookshelf and ate a small meal. He brushed and braided his hair, refreshed their travel materials, prepared the Elder Scrolls, clasped on a cloak, and wilfully ignored the thoughts that toyed with his conscience.

Serana returned within the hour, refreshed and ready to leave. He secured Valerica's Elder Scroll to her back and she did the same for his. They spoke of idle things while they filled the saddlebags. She seemed content to forget about what had happened before; that was fine by him.

They'd been travelling for close to an hour when they passed the smoking remains of the Hall of the Vigilant. The place was crawling with vampires. They weren't very much of a threat, but Vafiél showed them no mercy when the master vampire managed to cut Serana's hand.

"It's just a little cut," she protested when he healed it for her. "It'll close on its own."

"Then it won't be difficult to heal," Vafiél replied. The wound had all but disappeared when a roar made the air tremble above them. Annoyed at the delays, he turned to the dragon when it landed and let the Thu'um erupt from his throat, lending strength to his command in Dovahzul: "If you challenge me, you will die, and I will consume your soul. Be gone, dragon, or face my wrath!"

The dragon growled and took wing, searching for an easier dinner.

Vafiél glanced at Serana, who was staring at him in surprise. "Let's keep going," he said, swinging into the saddle.

* * *

Fort Dawnguard had turned into much more than an abandoned ruin when they returned. Serana couldn't say she enjoyed being there, but at least the place wasn't falling apart and overgrown.

There'd been a stiffness in Vafiél's shoulders since they left Myrwatch. She didn't think about the look in his eyes as he stared up at her that morning, hair splayed out, blushing like the light that fell on him.

_Focus, _she berated herself as they entered the fort.

They found Dexion seated in the dining area. "Dexion," Vafiél said, "we've brought the… Oh, no." His voice filled with dread and Serana realised why the moment she saw the Moth Priest with a covering on his eyes.

"I'm sorry, friends. I'm afraid I can no longer be of use in this matter," Dexion said, calm yet regretful.

"You're blind," Serana realised aloud, worry gnawing at her.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Dexion lamented. "I was… ill-prepared to read the Elder Scroll. It'll have to run its course, and there's always the chance I may never recover."

Vafiél placed his hands on his hips, sighing heavily. "Then we're finished."

"No, there's another way. The question is, how much are you willing to risk to find Auriel's Bow?" Dexion asked, as Serana touched Vafiél's shoulder to reassure him.

"Tell me what I need to do," Vafiél responded quietly.

Dexion hesitated. "I can't guarantee you'd be free from harm. Becoming blind could be the least of your worries."

"Never mind that. Just tell me."

Serana had a sinking feeling she wasn't going to like what came next.

"Scattered across Tamriel are secluded locations known only as Ancestor Glades. There's one in Skyrim, in the Pine Forest. Performing the Ritual of the Ancestor Moth within the glade should provide the answers you seek," Dexion explained.

"…Fine. Explain the ritual," Vafiél requested, tense.

"It involves carefully removing the bark from a Canticle Tree using an implement called the Draw Knife, which will in turn attract Ancestor Moths to you. Once enough of the moths are following, they'll provide you with the second sight needed to decipher the scrolls." Dexion shifted in his seat. "Every Moth Priest is taught this ritual, but few ever get the chance to perform it. You should consider yourself fortunate if it works for you."

"Do you know where exactly the Ancestor Glade is?" Vafiél asked. "We can't afford to waste time searching."

"Yes. I'll mark it on your map." While the two discussed that, Serana leaned against a wall, noticing that Isran was approaching.

Isran neared Vafiél and took hold of his shoulder, far from amiable. "Listen here, mage," he said, almost a growl. "You report to me, not that old man. This is my fort. I am your commander. Got it?"

"Let go of me," Vafiél said icily, breaking Isran's hold.

Isran threw a disgusted look at Serana. "You should be keeping that thing on a leash."

Serana could only imagine Vafiél's expression. "I'm not interested in your insults. Do you have an order for me, _commander_, or are we free to leave?" he asked, laced with venom.

Isran smiled savagely. "Oh, no. Not orders. Just advice. If you want to keep her around for _entertainment_, be my guest. I'm sure even a vampire is enjoyable enough. But I wouldn't sleep around her if I were you."

Before anyone could react, Vafiél backhanded Isran so hard he was sent to the floor, reeling, trying to get to his feet.

"Vafiél!" Serana exclaimed, but he didn't seem to hear her, or any other Dawnguard. She kept them away while Vafiél took hold of Isran by his neck and forced him to the wall. Vafiél's expression must have been a sight, because Isran looked like he'd just come face to face with Sithis himself.

"If you _ever _say anything like that again," Vafiél snarled, his Voice making the very stones around them quiver with fear, "you will _wish_ I had killed you now." Vafiél shoved Isran to the ground and watched him gasp for breath, nursing his bruised neck.

Serana met Vafiél's gaze. "We need to go," she whispered. He gave only a terse nod in response and stalked out of the fort. Fury spoke in his whole demeanour.

He only stopped when they reached the lake. Serana turned him toward her and looked into his eyes. "What were you thinking?!" she demanded in a whisper. "We can't afford to be making more enemies! He was trying to rile you up, Vafiél."

"I don't care," Vafiél snapped, surprising her with his ferocity. He'd never spoken to her like that. "He's been insulting you ever since you came to ask for help."

"You think I can't handle an idiot like him?" Serana folded her arms.

"That's not what this is about," Vafiél said harshly, frost swirling around his hands. "I will not tolerate his blatant disrespect. Not with the allegories he was making." He looked away, pale hands shaking with anger.

"Why do you care? It's not true," Serana said, confused.

Vafiél didn't speak or look at her.

"Vafiél?" She reached for his hand but he snatched it away before she reached it. Stung, Serana folded her arms, frustration making her stiffen. "Fine, don't tell me. It's not—"

"I care because you mean more to me than that," Vafiél said quietly, fiercely, cutting her off. "Because I respect you, Serana, and I will not let anyone bring your dignity into question."

She digested that in silence for a long, burning moment. "I should've stood up for you, too," Serana whispered, a guilty realisation. "I'm sorry."

"I… shouldn't have snapped at you," Vafiél murmured, calming down. "I'm sorry, too. And… it was foolish of me to attack Isran."

"We all do stupid things sometimes." Serana stepped forward and drew her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "Thank you, Vafiél." He said nothing, holding her close and sighing softly into her hair, enveloping her in warmth as the birds sang for dawn.


	8. Chapter 7: Unforeseen

**Chapter 7: Unforeseen**

**A/N: Welcome back! I've grown quite attached to these characters, and I'm considering expanding this story (with sequels) to explore the main quest and some other additions. As always, feedback is appreciated. Enjoy.**

* * *

A cool breeze suffused the pine forest of Skyrim's southwest. They had just passed by Falkreath, nicknamed the Graveyard City for its history of multiple battles over the ages; there, the first uprising of the Stormcloaks began the bloody civil war that now tore the country apart, and Falkreath became the final resting place of hundreds of Nords.

The woods were pleasant and quiet, if not a little eerie. Some—mainly superstitious Nords—thought the forest was haunted, that the green-grey sentinels had been tainted by spilt blood. Vafiél didn't believe that nonsense. People were always afraid of things they didn't understand; that had never changed over the millennia. It took more than old trees to scare him.

"I hope we reach the Ancestor Glade soon," Serana said into the silence. "All this travelling is starting to drain me."

"Perhaps you need another long nap," Vafiél offered, amused. "Though maybe not for a few centuries this time."

She rolled her eyes, laughing quietly. "Wouldn't that be nice?" she joked.

Vafiél drew breath to say more but hesitated when he heard footsteps in the snow. He kept Storm firmly in place, but Midnight pranced about anxiously, sensing danger.

"What is that?" Serana whispered, tightening her reins.

Vafiél caught a glimpse of pale figures through the trees, hunched over, waxy skin pulled tight over hard bones. His blood ran cold. What were they doing on the surface?

He stayed very still and prayed Serana wouldn't speak. Vafiél shot her a sideways glance and saw her sitting stiff, watching him in fear, eyes wide.

The Betrayed were upon them. One, a female, made some sort of signal that kept the others back while she approached Vafiél and sniffed him. She almost looked… confused. Tentative, the blind creature took Vafiél's hand and pierced his skin with a sharp nail, just enough to draw a drop of blood. He didn't resist. She sniffed again, then released his hand, backing away. The woman growled something to the others in a strange, guttural language, and the group dispersed into the woods once more.

Vafiél released the breath he'd been holding and rested his head on Storm's tense neck.

"The… The Falmer, they… recognised you," Serana stammered. "Are you okay? Vafiél?"

He straightened up and took a quivering breath. "They were like me, once," Vafiél rasped. "Now look at them." His throat constricted and he fell silent, staring at Storm's dark mane to distract himself. "I'll be fine. Let's go." Before she could say anything else, he urged Storm into a canter and followed the path up the mountain.

The cave they searched for was tucked into the mountainside. Vafiél knew the path continued further up—he'd followed it once and met a fugitive named Angi who treated him nicely enough—but for now, they dismounted, and he led the way into the Ancestor Glade.

Serana caught his wrist and Vafiél turned toward her. "Serana?"

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked, gently, pushing his hood back.

Vafiél averted his gaze. "It's… difficult to see them that way," he admitted, "knowing that some of them were my friends and colleagues." The words were heavy to say.

Her smile was sad. "Come on," Serana murmured, taking his hand and leading him through the short, dark passage. "Let's do this ritual."

For a moment, Vafiél just stood where he was, blinking in surprise. Her arm stretched out when he didn't move. Before she could let go, Vafiél followed her, staying at her side and tentatively lacing their fingers together.

They emerged at the top of a grand, spacious cavern, pausing to drink in the scenery lain out before them: beautiful, ancient trees with pink foliage; burbling springs; waterfalls that drained into small ponds. And scattered throughout the glade, moths. Dozens of them.

"Wow," Serana breathed, shuffling a little closer to him. "Look at this place. No one's been here in centuries. I doubt there's any other place like it in Skyrim. It's… beautiful."

Vafiél glanced at her, smiled to himself, and looked out at the glade again. "It is," he agreed. "If I'd known this existed, I might have chosen to live here."

Serana sighed and moved away, releasing his hand. "Look, down there. I'll bet that's where the Draw Knife is." She pointed to a dais raised above the shallow water in the centre of the glade, its lowermost point. There, the light that drifted through the hole in the cavern's roof collected in a glittering column.

Together, they made their way down several flights of stairs toward the dais. Vafiél caught Serana when she slipped on dried leaves and kept a hand at her back until they made it all the way down.

On the dais sat a strange rock formation, rounded at the top with a hole in the centre in which floated the Draw Knife. Vafiél took it cautiously and held it in both hands. "I guess this is what Dexion was talking about," he said.

"Well, we got the knife. Now all we need to do is gather the bark from one of those Canticle Trees." Serana glanced around. "They must be the ones with pink leaves."

"I think so," Vafiél agreed. He went over to the nearby Canticle Tree and removed a slab of the bark. It had a pleasant, sweet smell.

"Hope the moths like that bark as much as Dexion said they would," Serana commented with a grin.

"Great." Vafiél neared one of the small swarms of Ancestor Moths and they instantly gathered around him, flitting around the bark and flapping around him happily. "I hate this," he decided instantly, sneezing into his elbow.

Serana laughed, genuine and carefree. "They seem quite taken to you!" she remarked. "Couldn't hurt to gather more, I suppose."

"Hopefully not many more," Vafiél rasped, blinking his watery eyes. He'd barely taken two paces when more of the moths flocked to him.

"Unless I'm seeing things, you're starting to… glimmer," Serana told him.

"Oh, lovely." Vafiél squinted at her through the cloud of moths around him. "There's so many!"

"Woah! You're really glowing!" Serana exclaimed. "And look at the column of light. It's so bright. I think that might have been what we were waiting for. Let's see if we can read the Scrolls, now."

Vafiél slowly made his way into the column of light. Serana handed him the Elder Scroll that belonged to her mother and he held it in both hands, taking a deep breath. "Here we go," he muttered to himself, pulling the contents of the Scroll out.

His vision flashed with bright blue symbols and the world seemed to shift uncomfortably around him. As he read each Elder Scroll, a map formed before him, pinpointing a location that resounded in his mind. _Darkfall Cave… Auriel's Bow is in Darkfall Cave. Wait… The Chantry! _Vafiél almost dropped the moths seemed to be lending him strength; he was sure he would've fainted without them. Vafiél put the last Scroll down and closed his eyes as his vision went white. He had a terrible headache and anxiety rattled his spine.

"Vafiél, are you okay?" Serana asked, drawing close to him as the moths flitted away. "Almost thought I lost you, there. You spaced out."

"I'm… fine. I think," he replied, blinking to clear his vision.

"I never trusted those damned Scrolls," she muttered, smoothing down his cloak. "Who knows what those things could have done to you? Just look at Dexion." Serana met his gaze. "What about Auriel's Bow? Do you know where we can find it?"

"Yes… Yes, I do," Vafiél said slowly, then with growing confidence. "The Scrolls showed me its location. It's in a place called Darkfall Cave, part of the Chantry." Dizziness made everything hazy again and he closed his eyes.

"Hey, stay with me," Serana said hastily, holding his shoulders. "Here, sit down."

He let her guide him to the floor. Vafiél rubbed his temples with a groan, then blinked open his eyes and met her worried gaze. He tried for a smile. "I'm alright," Vafiél managed, quiet.

"You'd better be, or Dexion and I are going to have some words," Serana murmured. The protectiveness in her voice warmed him.

Vafiél glanced back when he heard a grating growl a short distance away and saw a gargoyle with its summoner close behind. Alarm shot through him. "Look out," he said quickly. "Vampires!" He tried to stand but Serana shook her head.

"Stay here," she told him firmly. "Let me take care of them."

He watched tensely as Serana engaged in battle with the two vampires and their thralls. Thanks to their studies, she dispatched the gargoyle quickly, and had no trouble with the thralls. It was the master vampire that gave her difficulty. They went back and forth, attacking and dodging, until Vafiél had enough and shot an ice spear at him to catch him by surprise so Serana could finish him off.

He took a deep breath and leaned against the stone where they'd found the Draw Knife, legs folded off to the side. Serana hastened back to him and sat on her knees just in front of him. "Vafiél, stay awake," she said, holding his face in her cool hands.

"I'm not going to die," he mumbled, meeting her gaze. "I'm just… tired. Reading the Scrolls took everything I had."

She sighed and stroked his cheek. "You've risked so much already. We should wait until you feel better before going to Darkfall Cave."

Groggy and unable to resist, he leaned into her touch, placing a hand over hers. "Thank you, Serana," he whispered, briefly closing his eyes. He felt rather than saw her shuffle closer and press closer to him; Vafiél quietly drew his arms around her, lacing his fingers together over her waist.

She said something to him as he drifted off, something quiet and hesitant, but he didn't make sense of it before he fell asleep.

* * *

Two dragons, three bandits, and four days later, the entrance to Darkfall Cave loomed before them. He'd called Durnehviir from the Soul Cairn twice, and the dragon trumpeted gleefully overhead. Vafiél stopped at the cave's mouth and took a quivering breath.

"I find it hard to believe this was a place of worship," Serana said, looking up at him.

"Darkfall Cave represented the absence of enlightenment, the start of the pilgrims' journey," he explained, heavy with sorrow. Eleana had been afraid, yet so determined, steadfast in her devotion to Auriel. She'd been a priestess for seven years before the Prelates allowed her to undertake the long, arduous pilgrimage to the Inner Sanctum.

He shook the memories away and took a deep breath, entering the cave.

A short tunnel from the entrance led to a small cavern, where the path skirted a pond fed by a narrow trickling waterfall.

"This waterfall is small, but I can hear rushing water," Serana commented.

"So can I. There must be a river somewhere ahead," Vafiél agreed.

They passed by spiderwebs and egg sacs until they emerged into a cavern. An old, rickety wooden bridge connected the rocky outcropping they stood on to the one on the far side, and a long way beneath them, a furious river rushed along.

"I don't like the look of this," said Serana, nervously.

"Stay here," Vafiél told her. "I'll go and see if there's anything on the other side."

"Be careful," she implored him, sounding reluctant to allow it. "I don't think anyone would survive that fall."

"I will be." Vafiél took a breath and skimmed across the bridge as lightly as he could. It creaked, but it held. On the other side he found nothing but rocks and ore. "It's a dead-end," he called to Serana.

"What? It can't be. A secret path, maybe?" She started to cross the bridge.

A snap made Vafiél's heart drop. The bridge had broken. "Serana!" he cried, but he was too late to catch her. Her sudden scream echoed discordantly. Without a second's thought he plunged after her.

The river tore at him, knocking him against the uneven rocky ground. Vafiél fought to resurface and gasped for breath, only to be dragged back down and thrashed against the riverbed. He caught a glimpse of Serana and tried to reach her, but before he could comprehend what was happening, the river spat them over a cliff and into empty space. Serana screamed again. It was cut off abruptly when they plummeted into deep water, the river sending them hurtling forward. Vafiél tried to surface and find Serana, only to be dragged under by the merciless current. A knock to his head made everything blur. He was half-aware he'd swallowed water and couldn't breathe.

Just when he thought it would never end, they were thrown from a small waterfall onto the rocky ground. Vafiél forced himself onto his side and regurgitated the river water, coughing and spluttering and gasping for air. "Serana," he croaked. "Serana, where are you?"

A groan of pain sounded to his right. He dragged himself over to Serana and made her sit up. He hit her back in an upwards motion with the bottom of his palm and she vomited the water she'd swallowed, shivering.

Serana clung to him desperately. Her short hair was plastered down and she seemed to be in shock, not even aware she was whimpering softly with each exhale, which was unlike her. Vafiél cradled her to his chest and sat with her while they got their breath back.

"Serana," he rasped after a few minutes. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," she said hoarsely. At least she wasn't whimpering anymore.

"I thought I'd lost you," Vafiél exhaled, meeting her gaze. The fear hadn't completely abated.

"I'm okay. We're okay." Serana placed a hand at the side of his face and touched her forehead to his, their soft and shallow breaths mingling.

Vafiél laughed despite himself, almost sounding insane. "You scared me," he rasped.

"I scared me too," Serana admitted, echoing his giddy laughter hoarsely. "Are you alright?"

"Don't worry, I'm fine. I… hit my head, I think. Nothing serious," Vafiél murmured. Her glowing amber eyes stirred his proud dragon soul and made him feel incredibly mortal, despite his noble birth.

Suddenly she jerked away, scrambling to her feet and leaving him in shock. "Spiders!" Serana warned him, calling on her necromancy and destruction magic.

Vafiél forced himself upright, swaying slightly—that bump to his head may have been more than he thought—and reached for the magic in his veins, tapped the source, only to find it… empty. _Witbane, _he realised. _Lovely. I have a disease. _Vafiél strafed to position himself. "Serana, get back," he told her. She took one look at him, must have seen his glowing eyes, and quickly moved out of the way. He took a breath as the frostbite spiders neared, let the Words swim in his mind, and Shouted—_"Yol Toor Shul!"_—his Thu'um a raging inferno that incinerated the spiders. The air shimmered with heat.

"You really are a dragon inside," Serana remarked, quietly, as she approached. "You breathe fire."

Vafiél laughed hoarsely and swallowed. That Shout always dried his throat. "Keen observation," he said, amused. "Let's keep moving."

They followed the trickling water through the spiders' nest. The place was crawling with them, much to Vafiél's distaste.

"I hate these things," Serana muttered disdainfully as they picked their way around the dead spiders.

Vafiél hummed agreement. "This truly is a dark place."

After climbing a hill, the light of a fire made him squint. Vafiél raised a hand to shield his eyes and grimaced when the smell of death and decay met him.

Serana uttered a wordless sound of pity. "These people, they were…"

_Torn apart. _Vafiél put on a pair of leather gloves and crouched by the remains of a woman, her stomach ripped open, her viscera missing. He found a note beside her and read its contents. It detailed the deceased woman's despair at her mortal injuries and a warning message for her sister, hastily scrawled and bloodstained. Trolls had done this, she wrote. He left the note on the ground and straightened up, placing his examination gloves back in their pouch.

"Be on your guard," Vafiél said to Serana. "There are trolls ahead."

"First spiders, now trolls? Were the priests trying to kill the pilgrims?" Serana shook her head.

"I doubt they were here at the time," Vafiél told her, quietly. "I expect this place looked vastly different all those years ago."

She met his gaze curiously. "You've never been this way? But you said that this led to the Vale."

"This is one way in. The other was sealed off by the Betrayed when they attacked," Vafiél murmured. "Let's move."

"Right behind you."

* * *

They continued down a slope and into a dark, watery cavern. Glowing mushrooms grew on the walls. The growls and grunts of trolls echoed from further in; Serana grimaced when she realised these were the ones who had killed the two women. She and Vafiél dispatched them—she with magic and he with his Voice—and moved toward the end of the cavern, which was illuminated by light from the outside world.

Architecture made of smooth white stone rose before them in the form of broken pillars and a pedestal, on top of which sat a sun statue. In the centre of the crumbling pillars sat a dome topped with the same statue. Before the shrine stood a pale elf, face upturned in prayer.

Vafiél met the man's gaze from a few lengths away and Serana saw tears of elation prick his eyes. "_Gelebor!_" he cried with unrestrained joy, racing forward to embrace him.

Shock engulfed the stranger. "Vafiél? Is it truly you? I cannot believe my eyes," breathed the man as they collided in a firm embrace. Gelebor held him at arm's length to get a proper look at him and smiled, pure and relieved. "I believed you dead all these years."

Serana couldn't help but smile too, delighted on Vafiél's behalf. Centuries of isolation, thinking all the Snow Elves in Skyrim were dead, and Gelebor had been here the whole time, safe and well. She could only imagine how Vafiél must be feeling.

"I'm so glad you're alright," Vafiél said, laughing despite his streaming eyes.

"By the grace of Auri-El," Gelebor murmured. Meeting Serana's gaze, he added, "Come forward. You have nothing to fear here."

Vafiél backed away a few steps and wiped his eyes, gathering his composure.

Serana approached them and met the stranger's gaze, looking from him to Vafiél and back again. They were both Snow Elves, but she noted that Vafiél's features were softer, more… appealing.

"I am Knight-Paladin Gelebor. Welcome to the Great Chantry of Auri-El," Gelebor said formally. He was a touch taller than Vafiél, with a sharp, angular face and short white hair upswept toward his crown. He wore white armour engraved with golden filigree.

"You're a Snow Elf," Serana said, touched with wonder. "You two know each other?"

"Indeed," said Gelebor, glancing at Vafiél with a fond expression. "I served at the Chantry when Eleana ascended. It was a sight to behold. And of course, I came to know Vafiél when he found safety in the Chantry." He paused. "But, Vafiél… That was a very long time ago. Auri-El has preserved my life, but you… you were not devout."

"Life is full of strange ironies," Vafiél told him with a wry smile. "I am Dragonborn, and my soul belongs to Auriel. In fact, I have spoken with him directly more than once."

Gelebor's eyes widened. "An irony indeed. Even the most enlightened of us do not see such privileges… Ah, but I forget myself. It is not kinship that has brought you here. You seek Auriel's Bow."

"Yes," said Serana, relieved to be back on track. "Do you have it?"

"I can help you acquire it, but first, I require your assistance," Gelebor told them, as Vafiél moved to stand at Serana's side. "I need you to kill Arch-Curate Vyrthur, my brother."

"Vyrthur is alive?" Vafiél asked, sounding surprised.

"Yes. I don't understand what he's become, but… he's no longer the brother I once knew," Gelebor murmured, forlorn. "It was the Betrayed. They did something to him. I just don't understand why Auri-El would allow this to happen."

"What did they do?" Serana asked, frowning.

"As I'm sure Vafiél has told you, they swept into the Chantry without warning and began killing everyone." Gelebor sighed. "The Chantry was a place of peaceful worship. I led a small group of paladins that protected the Vale, but we were no match for the Betrayed's sheer numbers. They slaughtered everyone and stormed the Inner Sanctum, where I believe they corrupted Vyrthur."

"Are you certain he's alive?" Vafiél asked.

Gelebor nodded seriously. "He's alive. I've seen him. But something is… wrong. He never looks as though he's in pain or under duress. He just stands there, and… watches, as though waiting."

"I suppose you can't get to the Inner Sanctum," Serana said, leaning her weight to one side.

"Leaving the wayshrines unguarded would be violating my sacred duty as a Knight-Paladin of Auri-El. And an assault on the Betrayed guarding the Inner Sanctum would only end with my death," Gelebor explained.

Serana tilted her head. "Wayshrine?"

"Yes. Let me show you." Gelebor approached the dome structure and raised a hand that glowed with magic akin to sunlight. He made a motion, and the sun statue pulsed with that same light. The dome rose as the wayshrine's roof, while the structure itself had six walls—five blind arches and one arched entryway.

"Since the way to the Inner Sanctum has been destroyed by the Betrayed, the only way to get to my brother is by following in the Initiates' footsteps and traveling from wayshrine to wayshrine, just as they did," Gelebor told them. "There are five in total, spread far apart across the Chantry. But before I send you on your way, you'll need the Initiate's Ewer."

Vafiél took the ornamental pitcher from Gelebor. "I fill this at each wayshrine?"

"Yes. Once you've located a wayshrine, there will be a spectral Prelate tending to it. They will allow you to draw the waters from the shrine's basin as if you've been enlightened."

"So let's get this straight," said Serana, folding her arms. "We need to do all that nonsense to get into the temple so that we can kill your brother and claim Auriel's Bow?"

Gelebor inclined his head. "I know how it all sounds, but if there was another way, I'd have done it long ago. It's the only way, I'm afraid."

Vafiél's expression became wistful. "I'm loath to leave you here, after all this time," he admitted.

"We will see each other again soon enough. Do not despair, Vafiél." The paladin clasped Vafiél's shoulder to reassure him. "May the light of Auri-El illuminate your darkest hour," said Gelebor, softly, smoothing Vafiél's hair.

With a sad smile, Vafiél turned to Serana. "I suppose we should go," he murmured.

"Alright. Come on," she said gently, entering the wayshrine. When Vafiél glanced over his shoulder at Gelebor, who had resumed prayer before the shrine to Auriel, she reached for his hand and laced their fingers together. "He'll be fine. We need to go, Vafiél," Serana whispered.

He met her gaze with a small nod and followed her through the portal.

The passage was eerily silent when they emerged, and darker than a moonless night but for the glowing flora. "Oh, look at these plants," Serana remarked, trying to cheer up Vafiél. She went over to the glowing pink blossoms, only for them to retract away and throw them into pitch dark. She glanced back and only just made out Vafiél's shape. Had they not been holding hands she would've lost him.

"Must be shy," he murmured in reference to the flowers… or creatures. Whatever they were. "Don't let go, okay?"

"I won't if you won't." She slowly walked forward at his side, using what little light the glowing mushrooms on the walls and the odd pink beings provided to find a way through.

Still, several minutes later, the only sound to be heard was the dripping of water into tiny puddles on the ground. Serana's own unease was mirrored in Vafiél.

"Something is wrong," he whispered. "I expected… something. Chaurus? Bears? Trolls? I… I don't know."

"You're right." Serana bit her lip. Mounds of chaurus eggs dotted the sides of the walls, but there were none of the giant insects to be seen.

"I can't help feeling like we're walking into a trap," Vafiél told her, barely audible.

They emerged into a large cavern full of Falmer huts and their holes. Serana looked around and spotted one of the Falmer lurking in the darkness with a bow. Before she could warn Vafiél, the archer loosed an arrow that lodged in his chest. Vafiél sputtered for breath, shuddered, and collapsed.

"Vafiél!" Serana instantly crouched over him. His heart was barely beating. A small breath passed his lips and he seemed to faint. "No, no, no…"

The hidden Falmer skulked toward her and spoke to each other in their guttural language of growls and clicks. One of them, a man with a two-pronged staff and a large helmet of hardened chaurus chitin, began to inspect Vafiél, turning his head this way and that.

"Hey! Don't touch him!" Serana protested, swatting the Falmer's hands aside. The Falmer growled and two of its underlings dragged her back a little, restraining her arms but never hurting her. Without Serana's interference, the man continued examining Vafiél, though to what end, she couldn't work out. The Falmer removed Vafiél's undershirt and ran calloused fingertips across his pale skin, following ridges of scars that split the lean musculature. It was then she remembered their blindness, and the man's actions started making sense.

Her instinct was to look away and preserve Vafiél's dignity, but she didn't. The Falmer shaman made a thoughtful sound as he skimmed his hands over Vafiél's collarbones, up his face to his high cheekbones and pointed ears. She saw the same hesitant recognition as the Falmer on the surface had to Vafiél, the same wariness and… longing. But now she also saw fear when the shaman spoke to the gathering of Falmer around him.

Two of the warriors picked Vafiél up. Serana remembered herself and stood up, trying to follow but not exactly succeeding. "Wait! Please, don't hurt him," she called. The shaman glanced over his shoulder at her. "You can't understand me." The realisation stung. A brief order from the shaman made her captors lightly pull her along, and she followed, if for no other reason than to prevent the Falmer from mistreating her. They'd been kind enough. Why give them a reason not to be?

They took her to a hut on the opposite side of the encampment to where they'd taken Vafiél. She sat with her head in her hands and wracked her brain for answers, considering everything she knew. The Betrayed assaulted the Chantry and overran the Snow Elves. They got to the Inner Sanctum and corrupted Vyrthur. Vyrthur sits around all day, waiting for something.

_There's a connection somewhere, I'm sure of it. But what is it? _Serana looked through the thick bars blocking the entrance to the hut but couldn't glean anything from what little she saw.

And so she sat, imprisoned and alone.


	9. Chapter 8: Home

**Chapter 8: Home**

**A/N: Hello again! I've received a review with the opinion that the first few chapters are quite fast-paced, and I agree. I hope to fix these pacing issues in future revisions of the story. Constructive criticism is always appreciated! Enjoy.**

* * *

The second he opened his eyes, agony and confusion fell upon him with the weight of an anvil. Vafiél groaned as he forced himself to sit up, wincing as his battered body screamed in protest to the sudden movement.

He brushed off dark grit from the uneven ground and blinked to clear his vision. From his current position he could only see glimpses of a primitive camp, his view obstructed by thick chaurus legs barring the entrance to the hut that was now his prison.

Vafiél didn't know which wound to nurse, so he tried to think instead. They'd walked into the encampment, he'd been shot with a poison arrow, and…

Panic engulfed him and he scrambled to the bars. "Serana!" he cried, as loudly as he could. "Where are you? _Serana!"_ He could never forgive himself if something had happened to her. The very thought of it made him sick.

One of the Betrayed snapped at him, probably trying to quiet him down. Vafiél did not relent.

"_Laas Yah Nir!" _he Shouted. The Aura Whisper was a Thu'um that should have been nothing more than a murmur, but in his desperation, became a panicked yell. His Voice made the entire cavern tremble, loosing dust and rocks from the ceiling like an earthquake. There was no time for caution.

His vision became a sea of muted grey, while the life forces around him were illuminated in colour: blue for the chaurus, white for the Betrayed, and a single red glimmer far away.

He heard Serana not a moment later. "Vafiél! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he lied, slim fingers wrapping around the chaurus legs imprisoning him. "Are you?"

"Yes!"

Vafiél swayed with shallow relief. The woman guarding him swatted his fingers lightly and snapped at him, like a mother would chastise a rowdy child. Some of the syllables were… familiar, almost a twisted echo of Vafiél's mother tongue. Befitting of these pitiful creatures.

He caught her hand and held it gently. "Please, you must open this gate," Vafiél begged of her. "I mean you no harm." Even if she didn't understand a word he said, his tone had to be enough to convince her. "Please. I need to see Serana. I have to be sure she's alright."

The gate pulled away and the blind woman urged him to move back with a few flicks of her hands. Stifling keens of pain, Vafiél edged backward until they were sitting in front of each other, and tried to steady his ragged breathing.

"I need to see Serana," he implored the woman. Vafiél touched her fingertip to his canine, even pricked his hand to smear a droplet of blood across her lips. How else could he convey vampirism? "Please, you must let me see her. She… She is very dear to me." To emphasise the point, he placed the woman's hands over his heart. "Will you take me to her?"

For a second, he dared to hope. The woman squeezed his hands and rattled something in her growling degradation of their shared language. Was that comprehension? He was certain if she had eyes, she'd be giving him a pensive look. The woman stood and Vafiél strained to do the same, but his legs shook and threatened to give way.

She grunted quietly and left the hut. He made to follow her but she snapped at him over her shoulder and Vafiél flinched away as the bars closed in front of him. He staggered back and fell to his knees as the crushing weight and poison sting of failure turned his hopes to ash. Anguish twisted inside him, scratching at his sanity, stirring ill-remembered parts of him he'd worked hard to bury.

It was familiar, like a once-bustling city turns into a silent ruin filled with the haunting echoes of its former denizens. Familiar in the way he used to stare over high ledges and fantasise. It was the old scar tearing open, the sunlit grave. The diamond and the statice.

Before the dark imaginations of his mind could tempt him over the edge, light pierced his mind like the clear ringing of a bell. It shook him to his soul.

_Do not waver, my child. You have only lost when you refuse to fight. _

Vafiél opened his eyes and panted for breath, slowly coming to his senses. The grand voice rang in his mind. There was no going back, only forward. Always forward.

The pain—both internal and external—began to subside as his father's blessing burned away disease and fatigue, like morning dew evaporated before the summer sun. His body brimmed with gold and his spirit thrummed.

_I have to escape. The Betrayed cannot understand me, and if we stay here, something terrible is bound to happen. _He had to find Serana, and to do that, he needed to get out of this hut.

Vafiél sat meditatively and focused, calming the expanse of his mind to search for a solution. Time blurred in the absence of external light, so it was impossible to determine how long he sat there; it could have just as easily been hours or days. He was trapped in the twilight of the unknown. But twilight was a time for introspection.

As a youth, he would always as Aerindor for answers he couldn't glean himself. His old master always had a knack for seeing beneath the unknown. _What would Aerindor do? _Vafiél asked himself, casting his recollection back to earlier days.

_The laboratory reeked of distilled spirits when Vafiél entered. Then again, it wasn't often that it smelled of anything else. Aerindor used the clear alcohol to clean the tables and surfaces that the dead came into contact with, and had taught Vafiél to do so as well—"Death carries disease, and diseases must be eliminated," the old man insisted—but the intensity of it was enough to give anyone a headache. _

"_That you, Vafiél? Put your gloves on and come here," Aerindor called. He had a sharp voice that reminded Vafiél of cracking ice. _

"_Yes, Master," Vafiél replied, softly. _

_Aerindor the Wise had a refined, austere face. The first signs of old age lined his eyes, which gleamed a piercing crystalline teal. He never styled his hair—Vafiél doubted he even took the time to brush it most days—and it was haphazardly stuffed into a knot at his nape. _

_What Vafiél liked most about him were his hands. Rough though they were, his fingers were still as dextrous at four-hundred-and-three years as they'd been at twenty, and they found their way into places others did not. They were precise and quick and clean. The hands of an artisan._

_Vafiél looked down at the specimen on the steel table as Aerindor pulled back the cloth covering the body. The young woman looked to be in a peaceful sleep, like she would wake at the slightest tap. _

"_What happened to her?" Vafiél asked, frowning. "She looks… fine."_

"_Looks can be deceiving, my young pupil," Aerindor rumbled. He folded his arms. "Consider this your examination. Discover the cause of this young lady's death, prepare her body for the funeral, treat her with respect, and I'll consider your role as my assistant." _

_Pressure made Vafiél take a deep breath to steady himself. Aerindor had already performed the opening incisions on the woman's torso and moved her ribcage; all he had to do was identify the problem._

_He started with a proper observation of her body. Several months ago, this would've made him uncomfortable—and Aerindor mocked him for blushing—but no longer. The mortician examined many elves, both men and women; Vafiél got used to it over time. However, as he'd soon come to realise, a naked woman in a laboratory was very different to one in his bed._

_There weren't any external signs of illness or disease, much to Vafiél's dismay. The problem had to be in her organs and viscera. It seemed Aerindor was testing the very limits of his knowledge and experience. _

_Vafiél cleared his mind and eased open the woman's torso. With the ribs pulled away, he ran his hands over the viscera, applying gentle pressure and searching for resistance. "The heart is enlarged," he said to Aerindor, frowning. _

"_Indeed. You may extricate it," the mortician replied. _

_Carefully, slowly, Vafiél held the engorged heart in both hands and drew it up what little way he could to sit atop a lung. "It's quite… stiff. Even for muscle tissue. Especially here," Vafiél murmured, pressing with his thumb the lower part of the heart. "Something happened to her heart." _

_Aerindor nodded approvingly. "Now, you may ask questions. Make them good questions."_

_Vafiél adjusted the woman's organs to sit where they should and closed the folds of her chest before turning to Aerindor. "How old was she?" _

"_Ninety-three."_

"_So young," Vafiél lamented in a whisper to himself. He cleared his throat. "What were the symptoms around her time of death?"_

"_Intense chest pain, fatigue, dizziness, that sort of thing," Aerindor replied. _

"_Has a death like this ever happened in her family?"_

"_Ah!" Aerindor rewarded him with a triumphant grin. "Excellent question, young man! Yes, it has. In fact, her father and her grandmother both died the same deaths."_

_Vafiél blinked in surprise. "Whatever this disease is, it has a strong family affiliation," he commented. "Is it inherited?"_

"_Some say it is. Others say these kinds of heart failures are spontaneous. I believe the truth is somewhere in between," Aerindor explained. "It's very likely there exist several causes which all result in the same type of death. You saw for yourself the hardening of the muscle, the thickening of the heart's walls." _

_Vafiél took a breath. "Is there any way to prevent it?"_

_Aerindor hummed thoughtfully. "In my experience, it is an illness that affects lazy artists and those who do not engage in daily exercise," he answered with a wry smirk. "As such, I have decided you will train with Elwing the Swift every morning until you not only defend yourself from her attacks, but best her in battle."_

"_Elwing the Swift?" Vafiél echoed, dismally. "Master, what have I done to warrant this punishment?"_

_Aerindor laughed. "Oh, hush now," he said with reproach. "This is a reward, not a punishment! It is a high honour to be taught by Elwing herself."_

_Vafiél sighed. "Thank you, Master," he mumbled. As he was eviscerating the woman's body for her funeral, he noticed something else, like a growth in her throat. "Master, I've never seen this… thing before. What is this?"_

_The old elf leaned over to feel for the structure under Vafiél's fingertips and grunted. "It's present in all of the bodies I've examined, though I haven't been able to pin down its exact function. Leave it for now." _

_After weighing the major organs and recording statistics—as was most often his job in the laboratory—Vafiél readied himself to perform the death rites. The funeral itself would be performed by the woman's family, but at this halfway-point between Mundus, the world of the living, and Aetherius, the realm of the Aedra, it was Aerindor's duty to wish them a safe journey between planes. Now, that responsibility was Vafiél's. His hands were shaking with the weight of the words he'd never said._

"_Speak with peace and honesty in your heart, and Auriel will hear you," said Aerindor, uncharacteristically soft. _

_Vafiél laid his fingertips over the woman's chilly brow and closed his eyes, tilting his head back. "Auriel, father to all, giver of light and guardian of time, I, Vafiél of the Snow Elves, call to you. May Magnus' radiance be the guiding hand of this soul, who I commend now to Aetherius. Receive her gently, and help her find her place in your pantheon."_

_The second he'd said the last word, blinding white-gold light filled the room. The woman's surgical incisions closed over, and her body became clean, smelling of morning dew. _

_Vafiél stepped back in alarm, snatching his hand away. "I—I didn't mean to—That wasn't me," he said quickly, looking to Aerindor for help. _

_Aerindor looked upon the woman with glistening eyes. "Never in all my years have I seen such a thing," he whispered, raspily. He met Vafiél's gaze. "From now on, you will perform the death rites. It seems Auriel has made a conduit of you."_

"_Y-Yes, Master." His mind and body reverberated with the weight of what he'd done, yet he had only one question. _

_Why him?_

He hadn't known it then, but even at the meagre age of twenty-two—barely a man grown, by elven reckoning—Auriel had a hand in his life. Vafiél knew the answer now. Discovering he was the Dragonborn had eased the pain in his existence just as much as Auriel himself had.

And in his reverie he realised that he'd yet again asked the wrong question. When Master Aerindor hadn't known the answers, when not even the cleverest of the Snow Elves could solve the problem, it was Auriel who guided him. The only true father he'd ever known.

Vafiél placed his hands in his lap, palms facing upward, and tilted his head back.

_I need your strength and wisdom to save Serana. To save everyone. Please… Help me. I cannot do this alone. _

_You are never alone, my child. Your resilience and wit are characteristic of the dov; use them now. _

Clarity and warmth suffused his mind, soothing his weariness. _I need a distraction, _Vafiél mused, _something to draw all of the Betrayed into one place while Serana and I escape. _

Vafiél scoured his mind for the Words he needed, searching for a Thu'um that could draw all of the Betrayed into one place. _If I throw my voice… _

He sat at the entrance to the hut and focused on the far side of the cavernous room, the way they'd first entered. With his mind clear of everything but the far-off wall and the crystalline Words, Vafiél Whispered—_"Zul Mey Gut…"_—and the shadow of a person speaking appeared in the dark passageway.

The Betrayed flocked to the illusion, growling and clicking amongst themselves. Vafiél forced his way through the bars and sprinted to the other side of the camp, as quickly and quietly as he could. Serana scrambled to her feet the second she saw him and he broke open the bars imprisoning her. "Vafiél," she said, his name falling from her lips with a confluence of fear and relief.

"Run," he breathed, taking her hand and forcing his body to its limits as they dashed out of the encampment. The Betrayed hastened after them with a barrage of indignant growls.

With Serana close at hand, Vafiél sprinted under a freezing waterfall and through gloom-filled passages, avoiding traps and collapsing rock. A dead end soon loomed before them. He tugged a pull-chain and the wall slid away, and Vafiél didn't hesitate to rush through it and close the passageway on the other side. He Shouted to turn the hidden entry into a mess of rubble, sealing the Betrayed on the other side with no way through.

Only then did they stop to catch their breath. Serana released his hand and doubled over, gasping for air, and Vafiél slumped sideways against a natural pillar of rock. When he could manage to speak, he asked, "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" He could hear the urgency in his breathless tone.

"No, no," Serana panted, shaking her head. "I'm fine. Are you?"

Vafiél could've answered that question with a hundred words, but now wasn't the time. "Shaken and exhausted, but I'll live," he said grimly. Looking at her, he realised there was more he'd forgotten. Vafiél took a step closer and held her fiery gaze. "Serana, I… I'm sorry. I led us into danger, and almost got us both killed. I swore I'd keep you safe. I don't take my oaths lightly. I… I hope you can forgive me." Shame made him avert his gaze.

He heard her sigh. "It's over now, and we aren't hurt. That's what matters," she told him, her tone trying to be soft but failing to mask what lay beneath. "Of course I forgive you, Vafiél. Let's move."

Vafiél swallowed his bruised pride and followed her.

They emerged onto a ridge in a spacious cavern awash in shades of blue and magenta. Giant glowing mushrooms gave off their strange luminescence, and flora native to the Vale stirred on a whisper of chill wind.

"I see the next wayshrine," Vafiél pointed out, nodding across the way. A long, winding pathway led down the slope, past lakes and waterfalls and ponds glowing from fluorescent algae, and then up again to the cavern's end.

To his surprise, Serana didn't follow his gaze or answer him. She just looked at him with hungry, glowing eyes, then turned away.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, quietly.

"Yes," Serana answered. Sounding forced, she added, "I've spent my fair share of time underground. The sooner we're out of here, the better."

Vafiél simply nodded and kept at her side.

When needed, he Spoke to the animals—sabre cats, mostly—to soothe their hostility. He watched with a tired smile as Serana inspected a Vale deer, marvelling at its fur; where a normal deer had white patterning, those patterns glowed blue-green in the cave.

As Gelebor had told them, the pale blue ghost of a Prelate awaited them at the wayshrine.

"Welcome, Initiate," the spectral man said. "I am Prelate Sidanyis. This is the Wayshrine of Illumination. Are you prepared to honour the mantras of Auri-El and fill your vessel with His enlightenment?"

"I am," Vafiél responded.

"Then behold Auri-El's gift, my child. May it light your path as you seek tranquillity within the Inner Sanctum." The Prelate turned to the domed roof of the wayshrine and cast the resonance spell on it, making it rise out of the ground as the proper shrine. Vafiél entered and filled the Initiate's Ewer from the basin in the centre, then turned his attention to the portal before them.

"I know where this leads," he said, quietly.

Serana glanced sideways at him, waiting for more.

Vafiél met her gaze with uncertain longing. "Home," he whispered, and led the way through the portal.

* * *

The portal led them to another tall cavern with a large hole at its apex. Serana followed Vafiél as they climbed the path that spiralled around and led up to the opening.

A valley stretched before them in the cool embrace of the border mountains, illuminated by Masser and Secunda as they waxed full to brighten the night. It had been at least three days since they first entered Darkfall Cave. She was _starving_.

But not even her dark thirst could detract from the beauty of the Forgotten Vale. Everything from the valley itself to its inhabitants reminded her of Vafiél; ancient, guarded, with a certain beauty and majesty beneath the surface.

"I'll be amazed if the cottage isn't destroyed or completely overgrown," Vafiél said softly as they climbed down and started on the path. "Look at this place. It's… It's all ruined." Old white arches lay broken on the ground and the remains of pillars and pale masonry littered the path. "I laid down spells to protect my home, but… Well, I suppose we'll see if they worked soon enough."

Serana followed a few steps behind him as they picked their way through the snowy ruins. She could hear his heart beating, the tantalising rush of his lifeblood. _Stop it. Control yourself. _Easier said than done.

One of the largest waterfalls she'd ever seen roared into a swift-flowing river across the valley. She kept close to Vafiél as he led her north on the path up to the mouth of the river. He tried to make conversation, and at any other time, she'd be glad for it, but not now.

"I don't feel like talking," Serana told him, perhaps a little too abruptly. He glanced back at her, his disquieted expression making her sting with guilt. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean… Wait, Vafiél…" But he kept on walking in complete silence.

At the top of the waterfall, they found a broken arch. Serana watched uneasily as Vafiél placed a strange marquise ruby the size of a duck egg in the receptacle, activating a portal. He stepped through without a word and she was forced to follow.

They emerged into a densely wooded area. Large, ancient pines with trunks wide across as she could stretch her arms watched over the grove, like old sentinels. Serana couldn't shake the feeling she didn't belong here.

She exhaled softly when Vafiél stopped. Tucked into the mountainside sat a delicate cottage with a snowy roof, made of pale birch wood. Serana frowned. Everything seemed dead except for a tiny radius around the house itself; the garden was utterly destroyed, and the small structure off to the side had been ruined. It looked like the cottage was frozen in time.

"This is your home?" Serana whispered. If she focused hard enough, she could see the air shimmer and distort ever so slightly around the house.

Vafiél nodded quietly and held a hand out. At first she hesitated, but Serana eventually took his hand and let him guide her through the ward—chances were she couldn't pass through on her own—and together they entered the cottage.

Warm light suffused the entry room from the fire in the hearth, ornate rugs decorated the floor, and bookshelves adorned the walls. On their left as they walked in, she recognised a shrine to Auriel, sitting in an alcove overflowing with golden flowers. The same blooms were woven into wreaths as wall decorations, too.

It felt like a home, she decided.

She turned to Vafiél and together, they matter-of-factly went about discarding their travelling gear. Cloaks were hung by the door. She helped him unbuckle the Elder Scrolls from his back and he did the same for her. He loosened her leather armour, unlaced her bodice, and she eased his hair loose. Everything was so practiced, so methodical; they'd done it so many times it was almost a ritual.

With everything unpacked and their things put away, Serana stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Now was usually the time they'd sit together and share stories while Vafiél brushed his hair and healed any minor injuries.

"Serana," he said, his voice dragging her eyes up to his own. He looked so… soft, in the firelight. "I feel… I feel like I'm losing you. You aren't yourself." Vafiél took a breath. "How long has it been since you fed?"

"More than three days," she answered, with great effort. She watched him look away, considering what she could never ask of him, as shame and unease rooted in her. "Vafiél, I…"

"Come with me," Vafiél said, very quietly, and led her down a hallway. The first door they passed was closed, and the one at the end of the corridor opened to what she could only assume was his room. As neat and beautiful as if he was just returning from a peaceful moonlit stroll.

He sat on the bed and brought his hair over his shoulder. Serana sat close to him. She'd never felt so… intrusive.

"Vafiél, I don't want to feel like I'm forcing you into this," she said, soft yet urgent.

"I trust you," he murmured. "Just… be careful. Please."

"I'm so sorry. I wish it hadn't come to this," Serana lamented. He closed his eyes and sighed. Feeling more than a little awkward, she edged forward until they were touching, at first unsure of what to do with her hands before settling them on his shoulder and jaw. "Relax, if you can," she whispered.

"I'm trying," he whispered back.

Serana heard a sharp inhale when her lips brushed his pulse point. His hands were shaking. She found herself wishing her only intention was to leave a tender kiss on his pale skin, but as always, that was too much to ask.

Eager for it to be done, she pierced his neck with a swift prick of her fangs and sated her thirst. The relief was instant. Her dark powers subsided and calm drifted over her, clearing her mind.

When the agonising moments were over, she pulled away and let him heal himself. He looked a little faint.

"Vafiél, are you okay?" Serana asked him, trying to catch his gaze. He answered her with silence. Fear crept up her spine. _What have I done? _"Vafiél?"

He finally met her gaze. Serana held her breath as Vafiél brushed some hair away from her face and dusted his fingers over her cheek. "There you are," he whispered, his expression difficult to interpret; somewhere between far away and fond.

A smile warmed her from the inside out.

Vafiél said nothing else as they settled in to sleep. In the soft candlelight that whispered through the room, she could just see him. Her father couldn't find her here—no one could follow them into the Vale without Gelebor's approval—and the spell outside kept the Falmer from getting in. Deep down she knew they couldn't stay here long, but right now, she felt safer than she had in a very long time.

Serana reached over and skimmed some hair away from his face, earning her a contented hum.

"Can we stay here for a few days?" she requested, quietly.

"I think it best if we do," Vafiél answered in a murmur. "We haven't stopped for more than a day since we first met. I'm… exhausted."

She brought the blanket up over her shoulders and shuffled closer to him, smiling serenely as he stroked her hair. "Me too," Serana admitted, tentatively placing a hand over his heart. "I'm glad you're here with me, Vafiél."

She thought she saw him smile, but it was hard to tell in the half-light. "So am I. Sleep well, Serana."

A peaceful sigh left her as she closed her eyes. She was aware of a kiss on her forehead, then nothing more as sleep took her.

* * *

To her disappointment, Serana woke alone. The rose light of sunset greeted her, and as she sat up, she realised flowers and a note had taken Vafiél's place at her side. Curious, she read the note.

_I hope you slept well._

_By the time you read this, I'm likely in the adjacent room bathing. Make yourself at home—I'm sure you'll find something more comfortable to wear in the wardrobe. _

_The flowers are called shadowblossoms. They're native to the Vale, and they only bloom at night. Their colouring reminded me of you. I hope you like them. Don't worry, they won't die. I've preserved them with magic. _

_By the way, you spoke to me in your sleep. I'll pretend to forget what you said in the interest of sparing your dignity._

Loath to think of what she could've said, Serana grimaced. To distract herself, she picked up the flowers to get a better look at them. She'd never seen anything so exotic: black orchids, reddish-purple in the centre, almost glowing from within. The perfume they gave off was, sweet, dark, heady, making her feel rather warm… just not in the way she wanted.

Serana placed the flowers in a vase on the bedside table and looked around for the doorway to this 'adjacent room' Vafiél mentioned. The door was slightly ajar. Serana tapped it with her knuckle. "Vafiél?"

"Oh, you're awake. Come in."

She pushed the door open to find Vafiél half-dressed in front of a mirror, patting his hair dry. He met her gaze with a smile and asked, "Did you sleep well?"

"I feel better now than I did after sleeping for centuries," Serana told him with a laugh. "The orchids are beautiful. Thank you. It's been so long since I've had flowers."

Vafiél laughed bashfully through his nose and looked away. "I'm glad you like them."

She inspected the lotions and salves around the room, occasionally sneaking a surreptitious glance at him. Finally, she caved in. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. Anything."

"You're a mage. I've never seen you so much as hold a dagger since we met," Serana murmured. "So, why… uh…" She made a vague gesture to him.

Vafiél laughed again. "Why do I have the physique of a warrior if all I do is stand around and cast spells?" he offered.

"Yes." Serana grinned despite herself.

"Master Aerindor told me that many ailments can be avoided by engaging in routine exercise," Vafiél explained. "I trained with a warrior in my youth to stay fit and strong in case the need ever arose to defend Aerindor. He was already quite old when I became his assistant, so he relied on me. And, well… Eleana never learned how to defend herself." His expression turned sombre.

"Seems like you're a good protector," Serana told him, attempting to lighten the mood.

"I was alone for a very long time," Vafiél responded, shaking off the past in favour of focusing on her. "When we started travelling together, I was relieved. Despite how antisocial I've been forced to become, it's not in my nature. I like being around people." Vafiél put down the cloth and smoothed his hair back. "When I was young, I wanted to be friends with everyone. Maybe it's because I was such a lonely child. Whatever the reason, I got along with my fellow scholars, and when I became Aerindor's assistant, I gained even more friends. But then…"

"The war," Serana murmured.

He nodded despondently. "I was forced into hiding as my friends were slaughtered by the Nords. I managed to make new friends in the Chantry, and then the Betrayed killed everyone, and I was… alone. In hiding again. The life of a fugitive doesn't allow for many friends." Vafiél met her gaze again when she moved closer.

"You're not alone anymore," she told him, quietly. "As long as we have each other, we'll be okay." She warmed at the sight of his smile and touched her forehead to his, enjoying the quiet moment and the scent of jasmine.

Eventually, Vafiél pulled away, his expression unreadable. "Is something wrong?" Serana asked in a whisper. She watched a faint blush colour his face.

"Everything is fine," he replied, a little too quickly to be natural, and ducked out into the bedroom to open a window.

She couldn't help her bewildered laughter as she followed him. "Vafiél? What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," he said nervously.

A grin spread across her face. She'd never tire of seeing him get flustered. Serana slipped between him and the windowsill, arms folded, and simpered, "Why are you blushing, then?"

"I'm not," he said matter-of-factly.

"Liar! You _are_," Serana laughed. "Your ears are red!"

"They are not," Vafiél protested.

"Stop lying," she chastised him, playfully rapping his arm. "Even your neck is red."

"Serana," he whined, catching her hands lazily. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Not nearly enough," she shot back without thinking. Both their eyes went wide and everything turned silent. The next second, both of them burst into laughter, Vafiél draping an arm over his eyes and Serana slumping against him, weak with mirth. Somehow they ended up on the floor, gasping for breath and eyes streaming.

Vafiél dragged himself up and helped her stand as well when they recovered.

"That was really out of line. I'm sorry," Serana breathed.

"It's fine," he muttered, still a little pink. "We've only been here a day and we're already crazy, it seems."

She giggled and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "We were already crazy," she mumbled.

He laughed through his nose and held her securely. "I can't argue with that."


	10. Chapter 9: Gentler Than Moonlight

**Chapter 9: Gentler Than Moonlight, Warmer Than Sunset**

**A/N: Welcome back everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next may take a little longer to write, as I'm quite busy with assignments and uni work. Sorry for any delays!**

* * *

"I get the feeling I'm doing this wrong," said Serana, holding her arms out.

Vafiél couldn't help but laugh. "Astute observation," he chuckled. Her robes were backwards and inside-out. "You do realise you're supposed to drape that over something else… for a wedding, or some other special occasion."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. What am I supposed to wear, wise elf?" Serana asked, lightly mocking him.

He shook his head, still laughing, and went over to the wardrobe. "For casual days and general errands, we wore wraps like this belted at the waist. The height of fashion back then."

"I expect nothing less from you," Serana said with a grin as he helped her into the long sleeves.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he said indignantly.

"You're a little… uh…" She giggled as she searched for words.

"A little _what_, exactly?" he prompted her, brows raised.

Serana bit her lip, laughing awkwardly. "Effeminate."

"…_Effeminate._" Vafiél folded his arms. "I do believe this is the second time you've brought my masculinity into question," he pointed out, amused. "Should I go and punch a wall? Or perhaps I need to go and yell at a bear to prove I'm a man. Would that make things clearer for you?"

"No, no. I'm sure by elven standards, you're actually very masculine," she joked. He must have made a face, because she burst into laughter again.

"Yes, actually," he scoffed, "I am. Few could resist my rugged charm."

"_Rugged charm_? You're about as rugged as Elisif the Fair!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, I'd love to show you what our elven lords looked like. I doubt you'd be able to tell the men and women apart if you think _I'm _effeminate!" he teased, laughing when she rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," Serana droned. "Now, tell me honestly; do I look as stupid as I think I look?"

Vafiél took a step back and observed her appearance. Short black hair slightly tousled, vibrant amber eyes, pale skin, and a droll smile behind which she hid how much she wanted his affection and validation. A soft sigh escaped him. If someone told him just a few months ago that a vampire's smile would make his heart stutter, that he'd be afraid to lose her, that he'd lay awake for hours making sure she didn't suffer a nightmare, well… He'd have killed the man, for he'd gone insane.

Now it seemed Vafiél was the one losing his sanity.

"You look beautiful, Serana," he whispered. "As always."

She exhaled through her nose and looked down, bashful, before stepping closer and holding his hands. He was powerless to resist her magnetism.

Vafiél watched her curiously, wondering what she was thinking. That clouded look in her eyes never turned out to be a good thing.

Finally, she met his gaze. "Will you tell me what happened to Eleana?" she requested, tentatively.

His throat ran dry and shards of steel pricked him from the inside out. "You don't know what you're asking of me," he rasped, dread and fear creeping up his spine.

"I do." Her hold on his hands tightened. "I can help you heal, if you let me. Please, Vafiél."

He took a deep breath, shuddering. "Come with me," Vafiél whispered shakily, "and I'll tell you."

* * *

An unfriendly chill pervaded the night air, the wind seeming like it wanted to push them back inside. Still, they pressed forward. Serana followed Vafiél over the hard, snowy ground, barely more than a game trail. From the heather and thorn of the underbrush, glints of nocturnal eyes followed them, and small things skittered out of sight. An owl hooted overhead.

Foreboding stole her footsteps as they moved quietly through the woods. Old pines watched with judgement and vague dislike as she passed beneath their snow-heavy arms. _You don't belong here, _they seemed to say. Serana agreed.

Her regret only increased every time she glanced at Vafiél and his anxious, stony expression. She hated having to put him through this, but she had to know. She had to help him move on.

They came to a glade and she inhaled sharply. In its centre stood a statue of an elven woman, made entirely of one uniform diamond. Her serene upturned face watched the stars with quiet longing, and in her dainty hands were placed sprigs of golden flowers. Long hair streamed aside her, stirred by wind unseen. The monument stood atop her tomb, on which was inscribed:

_Here lies Eleana of the Snow Elves_

_Priestess of Auriel and Daughter of Sunlight,_

_Ever untouched by the currents of Time_

_Now at last, with our Sovereign does she Reunite._

Serana glanced at Vafiél and found him kneeling at the statue's base, whispering in a language she didn't understand with an agonised expression. She sat at his side and managed to catch his gaze.

"When the Betrayed assaulted the Vale, Eleana and I escaped," he said, his voice grief-roughened. "We didn't know how we'd survive. The Nords were on a genocidal campaign, the Dwemer couldn't be trusted, and the Chantry wasn't safe anymore." He looked away as despair clawed at her. "She was… devastated beyond belief. She cried near constantly, and when she wasn't crying, she was praying." Vafiél took a shaky breath.  
"It only took a few hours before the Nords started hunting us. We evaded them for two days, but they ambushed us on the third night, and six strong men were more than enough to overwhelm two frail, exhausted elves.  
"When I woke up, Eleana was screaming. I still hear those screams. She shrieked and cried until I couldn't tell her voice apart from the north wind. They defiled her every night and tortured me relentlessly for a week. There was no end in sight."

"Oh, Vafiél…" Serana whispered, but didn't dare touch him. Tears pricked her eyes.

He was trembling uncontrollably now, his sentences stopping and restarting with great effort. "I did the only thing within my power to stop them from raping and beating her. I… I killed her. Strangled her to death with my bare hands. She died thinking I had gone insane and betrayed her. I cheated fate. And that dawn, the Nords all dropped dead."

"Why?" she rasped, frowning.

Vafiél met her gaze with such despair it cut her to the quick. "Eleana had poisoned their food that night, and we could've both escaped in the morning."

Silence fell over the glade. Serana shook her head, wordless. She choked on a sob and covered her mouth, unable to stop herself from crying.

"When I realised what I had done, I decided I would take my life," Vafiél said, dead and despondent, like he wasn't even aware of his tears. "As far as I was concerned, I didn't deserve to live, and the sooner I was dead, the better off the world would be. I found a cliff not far from the Nords' camp and stepped off the edge without a second thought."

"But… You're still here," she whispered through her tears, confused.

He sighed. "The impact shattered my body. I felt it, and I was relieved to die. Then… when I opened my eyes, I was staring up at a great golden dragon radiating sunlight. He said, _Few are those arrogant enough to interfere with Time's flow, and foolish are those who think they can change it. You are both._  
"I didn't know what to think. I'd gone most of my life ignoring the devout and thinking Auriel a lax god for his lack of interference, only to end up in front of him when I died. It turns out I was the idiot for meddling in things I didn't understand." Vafiél rubbed his eyes frustratedly.  
"Auriel chastised me, but he also comforted me; he was cryptic, but he told me I had a vast and far-reaching destiny, and my life was not mine to take. He told me to live and fulfil my role in the world, as punishment for my terrible actions, and once I had given everything I had to offer, my atonement would end. Then I could choose: live forever on Nirn, or ascend to Aetherius in eternal bliss with Auriel. It… made more sense when I found out I was Dragonborn." He wiped his face. "That's all of it."

"I'm so sorry," Serana rasped, moving closer and holding him. "I… I couldn't even have imagined something so horrible." She had a feeling she'd ache over this for a long time.

"This must change how you see me," Vafiél mumbled into her hair.

She leaned back and met his gaze. "Your past isn't who you are, Vafiél," Serana told him. "It's your actions and the choices you've made every day since surviving that fall that show who you are." She managed a sad smile. "And for the record… I think you've shown the world how wonderful you are a hundred times over."

Vafiél tilted his head down and wept into her shoulder until they both were calm.

"Vafiél, let's go home," Serana pleaded, helping him up. Hand in hand, they trudged through the snow, back to the cottage.

* * *

The world was awash in ultramarine, the first light of dawn, when they made it back to the cottage. Serana shrugged off the thick elven robe and slipped under the covers in her cotton shift, snuggling up to her sleepy companion. She smiled contentedly to herself when he gently pulled her closer and sighed into her hair.

Hunger made her stir in the afternoon. Serana sighed and opened her bleary eyes to realise Vafiél was already awake. "Hi," she mumbled, amusing herself with how stupid it sounded.

Vafiél laughed through his nose and met her gaze. "Hi," he responded, smoothing her hair back. Concern furrowed his brow. "Your eyes…"

"I know," she said regrettably. "It's not too bad, yet."

"Waiting until you're starving isn't a good idea," Vafiél pointed out, quietly.

Serana averted her gaze, biting her lip. "I'm sorry. I don't… I don't like this any more than you do."

"Hush," he soothed her. "It's alright." As he sat up, so did she, shuffling closer. She took no more from him than she needed. Hoping to ease the pain and discomfort, she left a light kiss over his swift pulse and whispered, "Thank you."

Vafiél visibly shuddered as he healed the wound. The air between them sizzled and shimmered with desire _barely _restrained. His fingertips feather-light at her nape and his touch at her waist, his uneven breathing, the warmth of his skin; they woke feelings she thought she'd never experience. After being offered to Molag Bal she'd discounted the possibility of ever wanting someone.

_I guess I was wrong about that, too, _she thought distractedly.

"Serana," said Vafiél, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse. His expression reminded her of the night he'd attacked Isran and how he'd stared out at the lake, trembling with frustration. _You mean more to me than that, _he'd said then. Looking at him now, she could tell he was thinking something similar.

Now wasn't the time to be making hasty decisions. It relieved her to experience his sensibility and restraint; she knew he respected her and tried to preserve her dignity where possible, yet it still surprised her. She hoped someday it wouldn't be a surprise anymore.

By unspoken agreement, they went separate ways to cool off and clear their heads. Vafiél left, presumably to the kitchen, while Serana stayed in his room to tidy up and snoop around a little.

* * *

It wasn't often that Vafiél took the time to sit and pray. He'd never been one for routine devotion—the obligation took the meaning out of the action—and he could direct his thoughts to Auriel without the need for a shrine and a ritual. Still, he doubted there were many shrines left intact that could confer a blessing. Best make the most of it before they had to leave.

Footsteps in the hall brought him out of his reverie. Vafiél glanced over his shoulder, feeling his heart warm when he saw her. "Serana," he murmured. "Did you need something?"

"No, no. I didn't mean to disturb you," she said quickly, shaking her head. "Sorry."

"It's alright," he assured her, standing and meeting her halfway as she approached him. "What's wrong?"

She laughed quietly through her nose and looked away. "Nothing. Just wanted to know what you were up to."

Vafiél couldn't help the grin that escaped him. "Subtle as an earthquake, Serana," he murmured, embracing her when she moved closer. "I missed you, too."

Silence lapsed between them. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze and ensnared him in her glowing eyes. The moment stretched long and taut and his heart raced like the wings of a hummingbird as she stared at him, softer than moonlight, warmer than sunset; wordless, and yet brimming with emotion. His breathing stuttered as her soft exhale mingled with his own. He looked at her and found the answer to the unasked question that had buzzed in his mind like a stubborn wasp. He saw her, and he knew.

He kissed her with passion and hardship and history and consequence. He kissed her not with force, but with intensity; not with haste, but with urgency. And when she melted into him, tangling his hair between her fingers and pressing ever closer, he kissed her again, breathless and longing.

For a burning moment he met her gaze. Before he could say anything, she crashed her lips to his, harder than he ever would've dared to. When they finally broke apart, panting for breath, he thought his knees would give way.

"Serana," he rasped. The only thing he could think to say was her name. No words—in the common tongue or any other—could convey how he felt.

"I know," she whispered, to his relief. "Let's just… sit down."

When they settled amongst the soft blankets on his bed, he drew her close and kissed her hair with a quiet sigh. "Stay with me," he mumbled. "Don't leave. I don't want to be alone again."

"You won't be. I promise," she murmured, kissing his collarbone.

He lay there with her until the birds heralded morning and pale golden light sent them to sleep.

* * *

She woke at sunset, unsure if she'd actually slept or not. Her memories—or perhaps her dreams—were a haze of warmth, affection, and dim flashes of light. She was certain only of two things: Vafiél hadn't let her go yet, and she had kissed him more times than she cared to count.

Could she be blamed for basking in his attention? She questioned whether her father ever loved her, and Valerica only saw a potential successor in her. Perhaps she had no authority to decide whether the emotions between her and Vafiél were love or something else, but whatever they were, she didn't want them to end. She didn't want _this _to end.

She looked up at his peaceful face, his fond smile waking her own. "Hi," Serana whispered.

"Hi," he mumbled with a quiet laugh, fingers dusting her cheek.

"Elves are music-people, right?" she asked, absently touching the scar on his brow.

Vafiél blinked. "I… suppose, yes."

"Will you sing me a song before we leave?"

"A song? What kind of song?"

She laughed through her nose. "A nice one."

Vafiél hummed quietly. "Alright. I should still have a lute around here, somewhere…" Amusement danced in his pale eyes. "Needless to say, I will be very rusty, and I never claimed to be a good singer."

"You're good enough for me," she murmured, and warmed when he kissed her forehead.

She watched as he rose from the bed, facing away from her with his head turned to the side. Slats of light fell on his back but his noble profile was cast in shadow. He was power itself. Anyone could see it. Beneath the lined tapestry of his pale skin lived old bones, weary muscles, and the soul of a dragon just waiting to burst free and lay waste to his enemies.

She knew it in the way he flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders, the way the sound of his voice could make mountains tremble and the fiercest warriors quail. She saw it in the way he ran, like he would take flight at any moment, like he _wanted _to take flight, like he _knew _what it was to see the world from the sky and it had been stolen from him. His eyes could turn from dewdrops to shards of ice within the space of a heartbeat.

Yet when he fought, that savage rage was nowhere to be seen; it was like water flowed through him with every movement, every precise step was a current of energy ending with his freezing hands that turned the water into a weapon. He would bend and writhe, almost a dance, like he was merely a conduit of something far greater, some ancient force older than even he was.

She sat on the edge of the bed and laid her fingertips on the thin white scars, trailing them around his waist and back again, where the Nords had whipped and tortured him. She found his flaws and gave them tenderness. She kissed his spine and he smiled down at her for a moment before slipping away.

"Where are you going?" Serana asked him, tilting her head.

"To the kitchen," he answered, a note of curiosity in his tone. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Sorry. I don't mean to pry," she said quickly.

Vafiél sat at her side and touched her hand. "You're nervous," he murmured, watching her softly. "Can I ask why?"

Serana averted her gaze, hesitating, even though she knew she could trust him with the truth. He sat patiently while she sorted her feelings into words. Finally, she said, "I'm trying to figure out who I am and what this all means for us. These things are new for me… I don't know if they are for you. You seem to be handling this better than I am. I'm just… not sure where part of me ends and part of you begins. Does that… make any sense?"

Vafiél lingered over that for a few quiet moments, taking time to think before he spoke. She'd always liked that about him. "You're still you, regardless of whether I'm here or not," he told her, gently. "And when we're apart, a part of me belongs to you, but I'm still me without it."

She nodded slowly. "I think I understand."

"As for past experiences," he continued, glancing away, "I haven't had any this serious. When I was young and stupid I got involved with a woman, but to put it plainly, that was sex and nothing more. I didn't feel anything for her. Aerindor lectured me harshly for my immaturity and I never saw her again." Vafiél tentatively met her gaze. "Nothing I've ever known has made me feel this way."

Her lips parted, softly. She must have looked afraid, because he stroked her hair to soothe her.

"We can work this out together," Vafiél murmured, gently. "You have nothing to fear from me. I promise. And… If I ever do something that makes you uncomfortable, tell me."

"I will," Serana whispered. "Thank you, Vafiél."

His smile was sad. "Don't thank me for treating you the way you always should've been treated, Serana."

Tears pricked at her eyes and she looked away. "It means a lot."

"I know." He drew her into his arms and kissed her hair. A long silence ensued before he quietly added, "We should leave tonight."

Serana didn't say anything at first. She dreaded leaving this place, this sheltered bubble of warmth and safety; she knew the cruelty and harshness of the world, and not even Vafiél could shield her from it. But neither could they stay and allow her father to carry out the Tyranny of the Sun. No. They had to end this, once and for all.

"Let's start packing, then," Serana said finally, meeting Vafiél's gaze. They shared a sweet kiss that ended too soon, then separated to prepare. At moonrise, they left the cottage, and she followed Vafiél on their journey to each of the wayshrines. She couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched.


	11. Chapter 10: Aubade

**Chapter 10: Aubade**

**A/N: Welcome back everyone! I'm relieved to finally release this chapter, it was very much a labour of love and very difficult to write! I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for being patient. Here we go!**

**Update: Temporary hiatus as I prepare for and take my finals for uni. Should be writing again by the 5th of June.**

**Update 2: Thank you for your patience! I want to have the full ending finished before I upload any more chapters. I'm also dealing with personal issues and exercising more self-care now that finals are over and I have a temporary break from studying. All my love to you, readers! **

* * *

She watched the primitive war axe raise and knew not even her supernatural reflexes would stop it. Her heart stuttered.

"Behind you!" Serana cried.

Her sharp eyes followed Vafiél carefully, afraid to miss even a moment. What happened next was so fluid and precise she thought time had slowed. He straightened from his crouch in what almost looked like a pirouette, turning just enough to avoid the blade that whistled down toward him, and in that very same second he drew the dagger from his hip and plunged it into the Falmer's eye. The creature gurgled, shuddered, and collapsed.

His pale gaze pierced her the way a frigid wind cut through wool and leather. "Duck," said Vafiél, calmly. Serana didn't hesitate to do so. Still, she didn't look away from him, watching frost weave down his arms and past his fingertips where it spiralled into shards. The Falmer who were approaching fell in their tracks with ice in their necks. The snow around them turned red.

As she straightened, she watched the calm on his face melt away to reveal pity and guilt, and she remembered these creatures were once his kin. Serana bit her lip. "Come on," she said, hoping to make him focus. "Let's keep moving."

Vafiél met her gaze, blinking slowly. "Just a moment," he requested. His soft voice was such a contrast to his actions in battle, it stunned her.

Serana lingered curiously at his side as Vafiél gathered the bodies of the Betrayed together. He crouched, balancing elegantly, and held a hand out as he prayed aloud: "Auriel, though they are corrupted and unrecognisable, I commend these souls to you, and plead for them to find peace in the afterlife… If there is any hope for them, even in death, let it be so."

Vafiél took a breath, seemingly calming himself, before giving her a sidelong glance. "Serana, you might want to back away and shield your eyes." Once she had, what she could only describe as sun fire burst from Vafiél, turning the bodies of the Falmer to ash and making her shiver. Serana had no doubt such a spell could easily turn her to dust, too.

When she was certain it was over and the light had subsided, she quietly approached Vafiél. "Cremation?" she said, quietly. "I thought that was a Dunmer thing."

He offered the slightest of smiles. "They are well-known for it," Vafiél replied with a cursory nod, "but cremation has been performed since the time of the Ayleids. For my people, funerals—and births—were rare events, and cause for grand ceremonies. I just hope this will be enough." He started up the crumbling staircase carved into the mountainside.

"Why were births rare?" Serana asked, following him cautiously.

Vafiél paused a moment before answering, "I'm unsure if it holds true for other Mer, but at least among my kind, conceiving a child was always difficult. We are only fertile for the first seventy years of our lives. That does not leave a forgiving window in which to have children, considering the average lifespan was around five-hundred."

Serana digested that in silence. She suspected his infertility, since she'd read those accounts in her books, but it still felt strange. "Your parents were lucky to have two children," she realised aloud.

Vafiél hummed agreement, though he avoided her gaze. "It took my mother's life, in the end," he said, fingertips brushing the broken remains of a pillar.

Silence stretched between them. She could have easily reached out and touched him, but he seemed leagues away, and a far-off look dominated his expression. Serana found herself remembering how he'd stare at the night sky as they travelled or watch hawks drift lazily through the sky as the sun began to set. _Melancholy is an easy trap to fall into for a dovah, _he'd told her once. _Especially a lonely one. _

"Vafiél," she said, hesitantly, "what will you do when we end the prophecy?" The real question lingered in the air unspoken: _Will you hide forever?_

Vafiél met her gaze. The weight of it pressed down on her as if he'd dropped a boulder on her chest. "Alduin has returned," he murmured. "We are bound by destiny. It is my fate to defeat him and prevent the end of the world… That is what I will do." He paused for a moment, hearing her silent question. "The time will come to release the dragon inside me. That time has not come yet."

They crested the staircase and he gestured out at the long expanse of frozen lake they now stood near. "The next wayshrine is across the Elothíl Basin," said Vafiél. She could just see the domed roof in the distance.

Serana cautiously stepped onto the icy surface, hearing tiny cracks beneath her feet. She halted. "Does this ice feel a little… thin to you?"

"I think you're right," agreed Vafiél, tentatively. He frowned. "I hear something."

"Wait, I hear it too," she said quickly. "What—" Shattering ice broke off her sentence and shrill, quaking roars ripped through the air as twin dragons emerged from the lake, climbing into the sky.

She looked to Vafiél instinctively and he pointed to the far right side of the lake to an outcropping of snow and rock. "Go, before all of the ice breaks," he told her.

"And leave you here alone? Are you insane?!" Serana argued indignantly. "That's not—"

"Serana, go," Vafiél insisted. The dragons began to descend.

"Vafiél—"

"_Run!_" he implored her, eyes glowing bright blue and the air trembling around them.

She turned away with a hiss of frustration and dashed for the outcropping. The ice cracked at her heels and the wind screamed across the dragons' great wings as they dove for Vafiél, and stupidly she kept glancing back at him.

Serana pressed her back to the stone when she reached it and watched breathlessly as the twin dragons wove around each other in a descending helix, fire spewing from their jaws. The ice split apart and all three of them disappeared underwater.

"Vafiél!" she shouted, frantically searching the lake. Horror crept through her when she didn't see him resurface. Ignoring her better judgement, Serana sprinted across the cracking ice, only to hastily stop as the dragons burst forth again. She scrambled back away from the rapidly opening hole.

A bout of coughing and spluttering sounded to her left as Vafiél clung to the ice, weak and shivering. She was at his side in an instant, dragging him out of the frigid water.

"I told you… to go," he rasped in complaint, scanning the sky.

"You can't get rid of me that easily," Serana told him firmly. "Come on. That's it."

As they stood, Vafiél grimaced, looked past her, and his eyes glowed. Serana rapidly ducked behind him and covered her ears as the sound of his Voice broke the air and made the mountains tremble. She wasn't sure what he said, but a sickening crunch sounded above them and the dragons crashed into the lake with twisted wings.

As the wounded creatures crawled painfully toward them, growling and snarling, she and Vafiél attacked. Serana glanced over at him just in time to see the dragon's lifeblood spray onto him, its throat opened by ice. She worked in tandem with him to take down the remaining dragon.

Serana watched in equal parts disgust and awe as he stood there, covered in steaming blood, and absorbed the souls of the dragons. Ethereal light shimmered around him and in his eyes.

Vafiél glanced over at her, panting. "Are you alright?" he rasped.

"I think so. Are you?" She stepped closer and quickly looked down.

Echoing her realisation, he said, "Now isn't the time. Let's move." He led the way across the lake.

* * *

After filling the Initiate's Ewer at the wayshrine, they stopped in the nearby waterfall cave so Vafiél could wash off the blood and change clothes. Serana stood near the entrance with her back to him.

"How does it feel?" she asked, then clarified, "Absorbing the souls."

A silent moment passed. She imagined his thoughtful expression as he paused to think. "Overwhelming," he finally replied. "It's difficult to describe… Dragon souls are ancient and overflowing with knowledge; there's always a surge of power, but then a quiet sadness." Water splashed onto rock and his breathing stuttered. Vafiél cleared his throat. "I've gotten used to it, but it's never pleasant."

Serana hummed thoughtfully. Another splash, another shiver. Then a muttered curse. "Having trouble?"

"Yes," Vafiél replied reluctantly. "My hair is stained."

"Put on some clothes and I'll help you." She heard a sigh and a shuffle, a rustling of cloth.

"Alright, you can turn around now."

Serana approached him. He stood tired and shivering, his skin still slightly damp. She offered him a soft smile and sat down. He followed suit.

"The scrub?" She extended a hand and he passed over the container, turning his back to her. Serana worked the coarse granules through his hair for several minutes until it was clean. He slowly relaxed as she did so, the tension in his muscles ebbing somewhat.

"Thank you, Serana," he sighed as she finished. "I can manage from here."

"Are you sure?" she teased, hoping to cheer him up.

Vafiél snorted. "Yes, I believe I've had enough practice," he drawled, twisting to meet her gaze. His eyes glittered in the light reflected from the water.

Serana shook her head, amused, and kissed his cheek. His blush made her smirk. "Come on. One more wayshrine to go," she said, resuming her spot at the mouth of the cave.

* * *

The final wayshrine lay at the crest of a large, sprawling Falmer encampment, right next to the bridge leading to the Inner Sanctum. Seeing the grand building in such a state of disrepair felt almost an insult.

Vafiél glanced sideways over the rail as they crossed the ornate bridge, gazing out at the frozen expanse of the valley far beneath them. Great heights had never frightened him. Fitting, he supposed.

"Look at this place," Serana murmured as they emerged into the courtyard. "It's ancient. The bow has to be in here."

A golden statue of Auriel dominated the courtyard as its centrepiece. Here, the god assumed the form of an elven man in a spiked crown, his power flowing from his hands into the characteristic sun symbol. Snow gathered on broad shoulders and frost chipped away at the metal.

Serana's apprehension was evident in how stiffly she walked up the steps with him. "I'm with you," Vafiél reminded her, gently. She only nodded.

At the balcony, he emptied the contents of the Initiate's Ewer into the basin, relieving his aching arms.

"Is… that it?" Serana asked.

"I suppose," Vafiél said uncertainly. "Oh, look." He leaned down to watch the water drain out of the basin, travelling through parallel grooves in the floor and filling a sun-shaped hollow. Light flashed on the doors.

"Do I get to call you Prelate Vafiél now?" Serana asked, her tone a hollow attempt at mirth.

He laughed briefly through his nose. "I hope not," he muttered. "Religious zealotry isn't really my thing."

Her cold fingers laced with his again. "Let's get this over with," Serana muttered. They entered the Sanctum together.

The entry room within somehow managed to be even colder than outside, likely due to the huge chunks of ice throughout it. Vafiél stiffened. Upon closer inspection he realised the ice imprisoned at least a dozen of the Betrayed and their pet chaurus. They appeared to be reaching for the shrine to Auriel on the centre dais.

"And I thought the Soul Cairn was creepy," Serana whispered. "What happened here?"

"I have a feeling we'll find out soon," Vafiél responded, just as quiet. "Don't touch them."

More of the Betrayed in similar states littered the partially-crushed rooms of the Sanctum ahead. Vafiél forcibly ignored the elven skeletons on the ground, trapped under rock, cradling each other or holding hands. He refused to consider who they belonged to. _Not the time for distractions._

Vafiél glanced down at Serana. Her grip crushed his hand and made it shake from the force. "I know being in here is difficult for you. Just… Stay with me. We'll get through this."

Serana inhaled unevenly, blinking a few times, and marched them forward into the remains of the chapel.

More frozen creatures littered the open room they emerged into. Some hid behind chipped pillars, others had been caught mid-escape. And behind a wall of clear, enchanted ice sat Arch-Curate Vyrthur on his throne. His voice crawled through the air with petulant venom.

"Did you really come here expecting to claim Auriel's Bow?" Vyrthur demanded, sneering. "You've done exactly as I predicted and brought your fetching companion to me. You disappoint me, boy."

Vafiél fought the snarl rising in him. Serana squeezed his hand.

"Which, I'm sorry to say," Vyrthur continued, "means your usefulness is at an end." He raised a hand to eye level. "Kill them."

Several hunks of ice burst open at once and grating growls filled the room. Vafiél made a motion with his left hand and Serana ducked behind him as he drew breath, then Shouted the frozen creatures into the opposite wall. They cracked apart like clay on stone.

"Pest," growled Vyrthur, grip tightening on the arms of his white throne. "You delay only your own deaths!"

The Arch-Curate's hand flashed and the whole room began to shake and rumble, as if in the throes of an earthquake. Vafiél stumbled closer to Serana, reaching for her, though he wasn't close enough.

"Watch out, he's pulling down the ceiling!" she yelled.

Vafiél hastily scrambled backward to dodge chunks of stone from overhead. A sharp piece of ice flew past him and left a stinging scratch on his cheek, but before he had time to nurse it the Falmer who had been released took an angry swipe at him. Vafiél ducked and kicked it away, trapping it beneath the crumbling ceiling.

"Serana," Vafiél called, squinting as he searched for her in the dust and snow-mist. He spotted her scowling ferociously at Vyrthur, hands alight with magic.

"Enough, Vyrthur!" Serana declared, her crisp voice cutting the air. Light engulfed Vyrthur.

In a moment of terrible déjà vu, Vafiél made a dash for her.

"Death first!" Vyrthur cried.

An explosion of force, light and sound turned the world to white, blurring Vafiél's vision and making his ears ring. He only realised he'd hit the floor when the sensation ebbed. Panicked, he tried to raise himself on shaking arms. The entire chapel had collapsed around him and pain shot through his body like lightning.

Fiery amber eyes snagged his attention as they appeared in front of him. A cool hand brushed his fingers. "Vafiél," Serana said urgently. "Hey, are you alright? You have to get up, Vafiél. We can do this. I know we can."

With her help, Vafiél forced himself to his feet. So great were his pain and exhaustion, he felt something stirring within him, some strangely familiar will not quite his own, and yet so innate it could belong to no one else. He let it lend strength to his quivering limbs and sharpen his blurry eyes.

Before them lay the balcony of the overlook, and the first hazy beginnings of a bloody sunrise splashed hues of red and gold on the world, though the sun had not yet climbed above the horizon. Every surface glistened.

Vafiél looked to Serana. "I am with you," he told her, and together they ascended the steps to the overlook.

Breathing raggedly, Vyrthur leaned heavily on the railing, clutching at his chest. His eyes snapped to the pair as they drew near and gleamed with reproach.

"It's over, Vyrthur," Vafiél told him firmly. "Yield and give us the bow."

"How dare you!" Vyrthur spat. "I was the Arch-Curate of Auri-El, you impudent wretch. I had the ears of our god!"

"Yes, yes, until the Betrayed corrupted you," Serana cut in condescendingly, arms folded. "We've heard this sad story."

Vyrthur's laugh rang out, bitter and painful. "Gelebor and his kind are easily manipulated fools," he muttered. "Look into my eyes, Serana. You tell me what I am."

Serana's unsettled expression caught Vafiél's gaze. "You… You're a vampire?" she said in disbelief. "But Auriel should've protected you…"

"When I became infected by one of my own Initiates, Auri-El turned his back on me," Vyrthur told her scornfully. "Cast me aside like a forgotten stone! I swore I'd have my revenge, no matter the cost."

Vafiél couldn't fight his contempt any longer. "Auriel forsook you because he saw the greed and ambition in your heart, Vyrthur," he said, lethally quiet. "You embraced the powers of the vampire before you realised your weakness to sunlight and started to regret it."

Vyrthur snarled, apparently trying to ignore him. He stared at Serana as if he'd have better luck with her. "Auri-El himself may have been beyond my reach, but his influence on our world wasn't. All I needed was the blood of a vampire and his own weapon, the blasted bow."

"The blood of a vampire… Auriel's Bow… It was you? You created that prophecy?" Serana said slowly.

"A prophecy that lacked a single, final ingredient…" Vyrthur advanced toward Serana, eyes glowing. "The blood of a pure vampire. The blood of a Daughter of Coldharbour."

Vafiél flexed his fingers. The Thu'um roiled in his throat.

Enraged, Serana edged forward and took hold of Vyrthur's throat, lifting him into the air with supernatural strength. "You were waiting all this time for someone with my blood to come along?" she snarled, showing her fangs. Vyrthur writhed but could not escape her grip. "Well, that's too bad. I intend on keeping it. Let's see if _your _blood has any power to it!" With that, she threw him to the ground.

Vafiél acted quickly. Using Vyrthur's shock to his advantage, he unleashed the Shout of the Inferno upon the Arch-Curate, engulfing him in dragonfire. A whirlwind of frost blew Vafiél and Serana away as Vyrthur scrambled to his feet.

"Enough, Althadan! You cannot win this!" Vafiél told him, hearing the plea in his voice.

For a moment, something flickered in Vyrthur's eyes. It disappeared as quickly as it came. "Fool," Vyrthur snapped. "I'll darken the skies with her blood!" Sun fire shone in his hand, burning his skin. He aimed.

Vafiél's heart skipped several beats at once. The Words to slow time were somewhere, somewhere in his mind, out of reach. Ironically, he wasn't quick enough to speak them.

The golden bolt flew from Vyrthur's scorched hand and found its mark in Serana's stomach.

Her scream vibrated in the air, sudden and ear-splitting. Time did seem to slow then as she crumpled, her skin alight, her expression agony.

* * *

_The strange woman stood and swayed a little, blinking open her amber eyes. They gleamed now that the lilac flames had disappeared, thrusting the cavern into gloom, leaving only half-light and that fiery confusion in her gaze. _

_He knew he should kill her. He knew Isran would demand it, were he here right now. Strangely, though, Vafiél couldn't find it in himself to harm her, to even reach for the magic or his dagger and strike with surprise on his side. _

_If he focused hard enough, he could almost see the red strings of fate between them._

* * *

_He watched her, curiosity stirring. "You read them?"_

"_Skimmed," Serana replied, glancing at the tomes on the table with quiet wonder. "They're fascinating. And the drawings…"_

_Vafiél cursed himself for smiling at her flattery. "They see no use now. I'm glad someone could appreciate them," he said, more to fill the silence than anything else. _

_She met his gaze. "I'm sure the College of Winterhold would kill to have those books. Instead, they're up here, locked away in a forgotten tower. Just like you." A slight frown furrowed her brow. "You're a skilled mage. Why—" _

"_Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," Vafiél warned her, softly. He couldn't afford to indulge in her friendship. He couldn't bear to watch her disappear like all the rest._

* * *

"_In the meantime," Isran added, locking eyes with Vafiél, "we're going to get to the bottom of why a vampire showed up here looking for you. Let's go have a little chat with it, shall we?"_

_Vafiél's breathing quickened and the sound of his racing heart filled his ears. But why? Why would she come here, of all places? Could it be? _

_He took the stairs three at a time and impatiently followed Isran to a room tucked away in a corner, full of bones and torture devices, and there she was. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him and he suddenly found himself forgetting how words were used. Isran was talking, but Vafiél didn't care. He watched a wry smile twist her lips._

"_Weren't expecting to see me again, huh?"_

* * *

_Sharp points of pain flared all around him and forced him, shaking, to his knees. Through gaps in his fingers he saw her, horrified, holding a hand over her mouth. Crying? She didn't seem the type. It must have been his imagination._

_This was not his first stoning, though just like every other time, he hoped it would be his last. Sounds and sights started to blur but he could've sworn she cried out for it all to end. He recognised his name in her strong, sharp voice, calling for him to fight. He didn't. _

_Somewhere in the distance, as he floated between consciousness and unconsciousness, a woman was weeping. _

* * *

_Vafiél met her gaze. Her breathing had stuttered, and she swallowed audibly. He went to speak, but she cut him off. _

"_Don't scare me like that again, okay?" she said. It sounded like she wanted to be harsh, but all she managed was a soft plea. _

_His chest tightened. He managed a weak smile. "I'm sorry, Serana," Vafiél whispered, seized by the brief urge to embrace her. He resisted._

* * *

"_If we don't run into any trouble on the way, it'll be a miracle," said Vafiél, wryly. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of your father's underlings."_

"_So do I," Serana agreed, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm… a bit nervous to go back to the castle. Who knows what he'll do if he finds us?"_

_Protectiveness surged within him. "I won't let him hurt you," Vafiél promised. Her weak smile said more than words could._

* * *

"_It isn't your fault, Serana. You shouldn't blame yourself," Vafiél soothed her. _

_He watched as she bit her lip. "I know that in my head, but I just can't help feeling bad about… the way things are. If… If I hadn't listened… we might—might have had a chance." _

"_Oh, Serana." As she tilted her head away to hide her expression from him, he edged closer, drawing his arms around her. To his relief she acquiesced and leaned into him, sighing shakily. Lightning crashed somewhere in the distance. _

_He didn't want to let go. He wasn't sure if he could._

* * *

_The small waterfall rushed on behind them and she clung to him desperately, whimpering softly with each exhale. It was so unlike her it unsettled him. Vafiél cradled her close to him as they caught their breath._

_To think a broken bridge was all it would take to snatch away his only friend and companion… That scared him. It scared him more than he was willing to admit. Despite his best attempts, he'd become attached to her, and there was no undoing that now. _

_He sincerely hoped he wouldn't regret that mistake._

* * *

_In grey predawn, she lay in his arms, asleep or awake he did not know. He knew only that he held her, that he had kissed her, that he had tied his own noose._

* * *

_How terrible it is to love something death can touch._

* * *

"Serana," he whispered. She didn't move. "Serana." The healing spell sputtered and disappeared in his hands. It did nothing.

That strange and terrible power within him leapt out of his throat in the shape of a terrible, wordless Scream. The weight of it, the cracking ice and shattering air, trembling ground, fell upon the world like the Greybeards' call had.

The sun rose. Vafiél rued Time and its merciless currents. He cried. He agonised.

He prayed.


End file.
